


10 things i hate about you

by thebobbyfish (rice_chrishpies)



Category: Love Island (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, High School, Inspired by 10 Things I Hate About You (1999), Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:27:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26291125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rice_chrishpies/pseuds/thebobbyfish
Summary: Chelsea and Cassandra are sisters, but they couldn't be any more different. Chelsea is cute, popular, and desired by pretty much everyone at school, while Cassandra is rebellious, ill-tempered, and feared.Henrik, who's quickly grown smitten with Chelsea, tries to win her over with an elaborate plan to set Cassandra up with Bobby, someone who might just be enough to break through her facade.
Relationships: Bobby McKenzie/Main Character (Love Island), Chelsea/Henrik (Love Island), Noah/Priya (Love Island)
Comments: 44
Kudos: 44





	1. i hate the way you cut your hair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so before we begin i just wanted to clarify some things! the main plot and some dialogue i've used is from the movie, so the credits for those things go to the writers of the movie/script!
> 
> of course, i've added my own details and dialogue, etc, based on what i saw fit. 
> 
> i just wanted to write this because i absolutely love this movie and i love litg so i really wanted to put it together <3

_Beeeeeeeeeeep!_

“Ugh,” Henrik groans as his alarm pierces his ears and his peaceful rest. He shuts his alarm off and plops back into bed, face first. 

As he’s drifting back to sleep, he realizes that today’s the day. 

New school. 

Again. 

He’s always the weird new kid with really long hair. And of course, the other kids aren’t all that nice about it. 

Blonde Tarzan. Walmart Thor. And whatever else—he’s heard it all. These words ring in his ears no matter what school he attends. 

To make matters worse, he never makes friends. Not for lack of trying, though. Whenever he makes the mistake of letting his guard down, his father moves them across the country. He just never knows when he’s gonna have to get up and leave, and it’s draining. 

There’s one thing Henrik knows for sure: he needs stability. Craves it. He needs firm ground to plant his feet on for longer than a few months. He needs a real home. 

He’s pretty optimistic this time, though. His father mentioned that he was planning on making the change to non-combat work, so that he could work an office job in the military. 

Henrik hopes they’re here to stay. The odds look pretty good, but he can’t quite shake the sliver of doubt in the back of his mind. 

The only constant thing in his life (besides those stupid insults) is physical activity: jogging, climbing, swimming—anything, really—as long as he’s moving. 

No matter where he is, or who he’s with, he always feels better after working out. Nothing matches the adrenaline rush after a good workout session. 

And the best part? 

It always feels the same. 

And so, with newfound motivation, Henrik gets up out of bed, throws on some sweats, and heads outside. 

The crisp, early morning air fills his lungs as he takes a deep breath in. A soft smile slowly forms across his face. 

The sun’s just starting to rise, painting the sky in whorls of pink and orange, and erasing whatever fears and doubts he had not a moment ago. 

Looking at this view, he suddenly feels silly for worrying about something stupid like high school. 

He chuckles to himself, pulling his long blond locks into a bun, and sets off, jogging into the sunrise. 

\--- 

“Whoa,” Henrik stands at the entrance of his new school, gazing upon the structure that spans far and wide. 

Rust red bricks stack upon each other, forming magnificent towers. An architect’s dream. The building encases a stone courtyard with patches of grass, seating areas, and even coffee carts. 

Swarms of students fly past him, looking at each other or staring at their phones, comfortable enough to walk around campus without _really_ looking. 

He manages to catch snippets of some conversations, most of them mentioning something about some chick named Chelsea? He isn’t really sure. Still, though, he wonders what’s so special about her. 

He glimpses at the letter they sent him a few weeks ago, instructing him to find the Vice Principal’s office on his first day. 

He tries to look for it and, well, the school’s huge. 

He knows that—he stared at the thing for a good five minutes. But getting lost in it makes it seem so much bigger, and it doesn’t help that kids keep shoving him out of the way. 

He’s _definitely_ off to a great start. 

Eventually, as he keeps wandering down the linoleum halls and through crowds of people, Henrik finds his way to a door with “Vice Principal” engraved on it. That’s gotta be it. There’s no way he’s gonna mess this up. 

“Come in,” a voice calls from within. 

He opens the door and finds an ebony skinned woman smiling widely at him from behind her desk. Though her braids are held together in a ponytail, a few stubborn plaits keep moving to the front with every motion. 

“Hi, Vice Principal—” 

“Miss Hope,” she interrupts him immediately, “I want to be friendly with the students here, and I want them to call me by my first name,” she holds a hand out towards him. 

He furrows his brows. What? She wants to be on a first name basis with the students, yet she speaks so formally. 

He notices her extended hand a moment too late, and she’s put her hand down. Crap. 

“Erm, I’m Henrik Sandström.” 

Hope motions for him to take a seat in front of her desk as she rummages through one of the many towering stacks of paper. Hasn’t she heard of digital copies by now? 

“So, Henrik, tell me about yourself.” 

“Uh, well, I—” 

“Aha!” Hope interrupts him before he even forms a coherent thought and yanks a manila folder out from one of the piles. Somehow, the tower still stands. Impressive. 

“Let’s see here,” she sits down and opens the file. “Nine schools in ten years. Army brat?” 

“Y-yes, ma’am,” Henrik stammers. “My dad’s a—” 

“Here’s your schedule,” she hands him a yellow piece of paper with faded ink. “And here’s a map of the school,” she hands him a thick, beige piece of paper with splotchy ink. 

“Thank you, Vice—uh, Miss Hope.” 

Hope smiles widely at him and then shoos him away. “I’m sure you’ll find that the Villa isn’t any different from any of your old schools. Same little asswipe shit-for-brains everywhere.” 

Henrik flinches. “Excuse me, did you just say—” 

“Run along now,” she looks up at someone approaching her door, “I have other miscreants to see.” 

Henrik walks out of the office, dazed and confused, and right into someone. Shit. 

Dreadlocks cover his head, falling just above his eyes. His brown skin is scattered with freckles, framing amber eyes that read indifference and slight annoyance. 

He raises an eyebrow at Henrik and crosses his arms. 

He’s fully clad in black clothes, a distressed tee under a leather jacket, ripped jeans, and combat boots to match. 

Henrik gulps. 

“Bobby McKenzie…” He hears Hope’s voice call out of the office. 

Henrik happily takes that as his sign to leave, and scurries out of the way… right into another person. _Again?_ His face immediately heats up. 

The force of impact makes Henrik lose his balance a little, but the guy steadies him with both hands on his shoulders. Henrik tenses. 

“You okay?” 

This is so embarrassing, Henrik thinks _._ He doesn’t know anyone and now, if this dude was anything like the last one, he could be a huge jerk. 

“You’re Henrik, right?” He gives a small smile. 

Okay, maybe he’s not a jerk. He’s on thin ice, though. 

Henrik nods warily. “Yep, I’m Henrik.” 

“I’m Noah. I’m supposed to show you around.” 

“Oh!” Henrik lets out a breath. “Cool.” 

“Can I see your schedule?” Henrik hands him his schedule and the map. 

Noah wrinkles his nose at the sight of the map—didn’t this school have the latest printers? Why are they using historical artifacts? 

“We have a lot of the same classes, so you won’t be alone for most of the day,” he says. 

“Oh, nice,” Henrik says coolly, but internally he’s so, so thankful he’ll know someone in class. 

Noah leads him down the hallway. “Let me show you around. Hierarchy’s a pretty big thing here.” He takes Henrik to the courtyard. 

They pass by a group of people sitting in a particularly luxe seating area, laughing and chatting only to themselves. They’re all extremely attractive—it’s unfair, really—and they’re wearing football and cheerleader uniforms. 

Typical. 

Noah motions to them, “Those are the jocks. Obviously.” 

One particular boy in the crowd stands out more than the rest—he’s so chiseled, he looks like he’s been hand-sculpted. Again, so unfair. The whole group seems to look towards him for constant approval, while his dark eyes reveal nothing. 

“That guy’s Lucas Koh. He…” 

Whatever Noah says next goes in one ear and out of another as Henrik stops in his tracks to admire a girl passing by. 

Not just _any_ girl. 

Her short, curly hair bobs as she giggles at something her friend says, platinum blonde locks glistening in the sunlight with every movement. A yellow sundress modestly hugs her curves, accentuating her petite body. Her brilliant blue eyes widens as she thinks of something, plump pink lips spilling out her thoughts at lightning speed. 

She’s… she’s beautiful. Who is she? 

“That's Chelsea Thomas.” 

Oh crap, he said that out loud? 

Blood rushes to Henrik’s cheeks. “ _That’s_ Chelsea?” 

Suddenly, he understands why everyone was talking about her this morning. 

“Don’t even think about it,” Noah says, as if he knew what Henrik was thinking. “She can’t date unless her sister dates because their dad’s overprotective. And that’s not gonna happen. It’s impossible.” 

Henrik’s face drops, never taking his eyes off her. “What? Why not?” 

“Her sister’s Cassandra, she's literally out to get anyone who gets in her way.” 

“She’s probably not _that_ bad.” 

The distant, yet thunderous roar of an engine cuts through the lively, careless chatter of students, immediately quieting conversations that barely began. 

“Speak of the devil,” Noah says, pointing ahead of them. 

People and cars instantly part to create a path for a jet black Triumph whose rider is fully clad in black leather. 

As she elegantly maneuvers the motorcycle into the parking space, the sunlight reveals matte black, intricate patterns that contrast with glistening black metal. 

Once parked, Cassandra gracefully steps out, one stiletto at a time. Her hair whips free as she removes her helmet, turning to collect her belongings. 

Just then, a skateboarder zooms past Henrik and Noah, and heads straight for Cassandra. 

Uh oh. 

Of course, with misfortune by his side, he hits her square in the chest and falls flat on his ass. 

Cassandra manages to keep from falling, but her things? Not so much. 

A flurry of her papers and books fly all over the parking lot and the skateboard skids away from the scene, leaving its owner to face the consequences. 

Henrik may be the new kid, but he’s so, so glad he’s not _that_ guy. 

The guy winces, cradling his backside. When he looks up at the figure towering over him, fear immediately replaces whatever pain he feels. 

“Shit. _Shit._ Sorry, Cassandra! I-I’ll get it,” the poor kid sputters as he frantically gathers the fallen books as quickly as possible. 

She scowls and shoots him a look that could cut steel. She doesn’t have to utter a single word for him to know that he needs to get away. Fast. 

He scrambles to his feet, hands her her things, and dashes away. 

She huffs in his direction, then turns, heels clicking away as she walks towards the entrance. 

“See?” Noah says, matter-of-factly, “Everyone’s too afraid of her.” 

“I guess I could still get to know Chelsea until someone grows the balls to ask out Cassandra.” 

Noah chuckles. “Actually, I think I could help you with that,” he says, rummaging through his backpack. “I manage tutoring sessions for students who are struggling in their classes. And I happen to know that Chelsea is struggling in her Swedish class. Do you speak Swedish?” 

“Oh yeah, I do! I was born in Sweden and then we moved to Tampa and then we moved to Austin and then… we kept moving…” he trails off, unwilling to recount the numerous moves. 

Noah doesn’t press him, and for that he’s grateful. “Well, I’ll have to check your transcript to make sure you meet the requirements to tutor—it’s policy—but if you do, I can set you up to be Chelsea’s tutor.” 

He hands Henrik a business card with his name and phone number. (Why does a high schooler have his own card?) 

“Text me, and I’ll give you the information. You could probably tutor her during study hall today,” he says. 

“Thank you.” Henrik takes the card, somewhat taken aback at the kindness. “Wait. Why are you helping me?” 

“To be honest, I’ve been looking for someone to tutor her,” he shrugs, “A bunch of people have signed up, but none meet the requirements. The ones who do, well, let’s just say they don’t exactly want to tutor.” 

“Oh.” 

Noah looks at Henrik, “And you seem to have good intentions,” he smiles. 

Henrik returns the smile, a part of him elated that he’d already made a friend, but another, a smaller part of him twinges in fear that he’d have to uproot his life again soon. 

\--- 

After running into some weird blonde dude he's never seen before, Bobby struts towards Hope’s office and stands by the door. 

“Bobby McKenzie,” Hope looks up from her desk with a disapproving look. “I see we’re making our visits a weekly ritual.” 

With a mischievous glint in his eye, Bobby smirks, “Only so we could have these moments together.” 

Hope frowns, unamused by his horrid joke. “You exposed yourself to a group of freshman girls.” 

He grins and leans against the doorway, remembering the scene of the crime.  


_He was sitting at his cafeteria table, minding his own business, eating the lunch of the day. Sausages and rice._

_A group of freshmen girls were giggling and pointing in his direction. He wasn’t sure if they were laughing at him or not, so he risked a glance over at them._

_They giggled even more._

_He smirked, letting his dimples steal the show, confidence momentarily inflated. He eyed the sausages on his plate._

_He’d definitely give them something to look at._

He chuckles fondly at the memory. “I was _joking_. It was just a bratwurst.” 

“You were eating from the _zipper_ of your pants?” she glares. 

A smile dances across his lips as he shrugged, “Gotta entertain the ladies somehow.” 

Hope rolls her eyes and shoos him. “Get lost. Don’t pull this shit again.” 

“I make no promises, Miss Hope,” he winks and saunters away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading <3 i hope you guys like it! i've been working on this for months now SLDJSKDJSSDJ  
> i'll be updating every friday !
> 
> a special thanks to esme and emily, who've helped me work through this and dealt with my spam texts lmao
> 
> shout out to da clan ofc ihlfy <3


	2. i hate your big dumb combat boots

Henrik has never been more grateful for his Swedish background. 

Noah’s given him the green light to tutor Chelsea during the study hall period, so now he's sitting in the back of the empty library, mentally preparing himself for meeting her. 

And, you know, the actual tutoring. Priorities. 

Chelsea dashes in and beelines for the seat across from Henrik. “Can we make this quick? Marisol and Graham are having a public breakup on the quad. Again.” 

“O-Oh, well, I thought that we could start with pronunciations,” he says. “If that’s okay with you,” he adds quickly. 

“Oh yeah, that’s great! I’m struggling to pronounce, um,” she leans over to flip through Henrik’s textbook. She gets close enough for him to smell her perfume. It’s sweet and floral, and she pulls away way too soon. 

“This!” she points to a phrase. “I keep trying and trying, but I don’t think I’m getting it right. It doesn’t even sound like a real sound anymore.” 

Henrik’s gaze softens. She’s so cute. 

“Maybe we could take a different approach, like…” he looks down and twiddles his thumbs, “Maybe having some Swedish cuisine, like, on Saturday night?” He trails off, his voice almost inaudible. 

She scrunches her face up in confusion, “Food? How will I learn to pronounce stuff while eating?” Her eyes grow wide as a new thought comes to her, “Ooh, one time I tried to whistle while eating. It wasn’t as fun as I thought it’d be and I got food all over the place.” 

Henrik presses his lips together and looks away, embarrassed that his lame attempt to ask her out wasn't even understood. 

She pauses for a moment, sticking her bottom lip out. Then, her eyes widen again as she finally registers Henrik’s question. “Oh! you’re asking me out! Oh my gosh, that’s totes adorbs, babes! What’s your name again?” 

Henrik flushes, again, for the second, maybe third, time that day? But who’s counting? He avoids her gaze. “Forget it.” 

“No no no, sometimes I just get way too ahead of myself. I mean, we haven’t introduced ourselves properly! That’s so funny! Isn’t that funny?!” She giggles. “I’m Chelsea!” she grins at him. 

“I’m Henrik,” he gives her a small smile. He pauses, “Can I call you tonight?” 

“The thing is, it’s not up to me, it’s up to Cassie, my sister. I can’t date until she dates. Our dad’s a doctor and he’s super protective. He’s in the O.R. all day delivering babies and he’s just afraid that me or Cassie will come home pregnant.” 

“Your sister could probably get a date.” 

She sighs. “I dunno, hun, she’s become pretty antisocial in the past year. None of my mugs, rugs, or pugs have cheered her up at all,” she pouts. 

“D’you know what happened?” 

She shakes her head, “Nobody knows. Cassie used to be super popular, like she could’ve had anyone she wanted. Boys were literally throwing themselves at her,” she frowns. “I wish I could get her a boyfriend...” 

“Hmm… Let me see what I can do.” 

\--- 

“Dude, are you _out of your mind_?” Noah throws his hands up in the air. “You’re here for one day and you’ve already asked out the most popular girl. Do you have _any_ idea how high school works?” He rubs his temples with both hands. 

Henrik just grins. 

They’re in chemistry now. They’ve finished their experiment early, but they can’t leave because they need to compare their results with the rest of the class, or something? Henrik isn’t really sure. He's too busy thinking about other things, more _important_ things. 

“Chelsea said she’d go out with me if Cassandra gets a boyfriend. So we have to set her up with someone,” Henrik says. 

“Did she actually _say_ she’d go out with you?” 

Technically? No. Not really. 

But Henrik ignores that tidbit as he starts absentmindedly tapping on one of the glass beakers with his finger, gears turning. 

“Who would date Cassandra?” he wonders aloud, “We need someone brave, someone who won’t back down from a challenge. Someone who just doesn’t give a damn.” 

Noah shrugs. “A lot of us have known her since elementary school and no one has ever dated her.” He pauses. “Not for lack of trying though.” 

“I mean, she’s fit.” 

“She is, but nobody wants to deal with the attitude.” 

“What happened, though? Chelsea said she used to be really popular.” 

“No one really knows. It’s like she flipped a switch,” he says. “One day she's this perfect angel, and the next she's the devil’s spawn.” 

Henrik hums. 

He looks around the room for ideas, distracted. What should they do? 

He makes eye contact with someone familiar—the boy he ran into that morning—and quickly looks away. 

“Hey, who’s that?” he whispers, leaning towards Noah and avoiding the guy’s intense gaze. 

Noah leans towards Henrik, hiding his face from the boy’s view and lowering his voice, “That’s Bobby McKenzie. He disappeared for like a year and nobody really knows what happened, but there’s lots of speculation. Some say he's a criminal.” 

A _criminal_? 

Henrik risks another glance at Bobby, who’s now toying with the edges of the flame on the bunsen burner. The fire reflects in his bright eyes, accenting them even more. 

“Well, what about him?” Henrik asks, motioning towards Bobby. 

Noah looks at him questioningly. “What _about_ him?” 

“For Cassandra. He seems to enjoy danger. Thrill. Adrenaline,” he muses. He's probably used to it too, if he's actually a criminal. 

“I dunno…” Noah says warily, “We don’t really know much about him, and the rumors aren’t exactly good… He’s been to juvie.” 

“I mean, he literally plays with fire,” Henrik motions in Bobby's direction. “That means he could handle Cassandra, right?” 

“I guess it won’t hurt to try,” Noah pauses, “Or will it?” 

Henrik shrugs. 

The rest of the class goes by in a blur as Henrik spends the entire time gathering up the courage to talk to Bobby. 

When the bell finally rings, Henrik shuffles over to the back of the room where Bobby’s slouching and checking his phone. 

“Erm. Hi.” Henrik sputters, then mentally slaps himself. Great start. 

Bobby looks up, raising an eyebrow. “D’you need something?” Not a moment later, he grabs his bag and heads for the door. 

Henrik panics and shoots a look at Noah, widening his eyes, silently questioning what he should do. Noah urges him on, so he quickly follows Bobby out. 

Henrik catches up and starts walking alongside him. “Uh. So. You know Cassandra?” 

“What about her?” 

“W-Wanna ask her out?” 

Bobby lets out a dry, humorless laugh. “For you? You serious? Do it for yourself.” 

“No, no, I like _Chelsea_ , but I can’t take her out until someone takes Cassandra out, so…” Henrik trails off. 

Bobby scoffs. “Not gonna happen.” 

“You mean I won’t ask Chelsea out or you won’t ask Cassandra out?” 

Bobby eyes him, clearly irritated by the conversation, then takes longer strides to leave Henrik behind. 

Henrik stops walking and sighs. Noah catches up to him. 

“This is gonna be a lot of work, isn’t it?” Henrik says. 

“Yep.” 

\--- 

When Cassandra walks into English, most of the class is already gathered in the classroom, including Bobby, who’s lounging in his usual seat behind Gary. 

Chaotic conversations turn into hushed chatter. 

Every so often, someone glances at her and then quickly turns away before she can meet their eyes. As if they'll turn to stone if she does. 

She ignores them, as usual, and makes her way to the back, where her usual spot behind Yael is left alone. 

Near her seat, Bobby prods Gary on the head with a pencil. 

“Oof.” Gary rubs his head and whips his head around, “Remind me why I’ve been tolerating sitting in front of you for, like, a decade now.” 

Bobby smirks. “Listen, Gar, I’ve been reading this book about antigravity.” 

Gary’s eyes light up. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah, I just couldn’t put it down,” Bobby snickers. 

Gary groans, “Seriously mate?” 

Yael and a few other girls sitting near them giggle, but Cassandra just rolls her eyes. 

What an idiot, she thinks. 

A few minutes later, Mr. Jasper walks in and the chat dies down completely. 

“So, what did everyone think of _The Old Man and The Sea_?” Jasper asks. 

“Oh!” a shrill voice calls out. A petite girl with waist-length ginger hair shoots her hand up. 

“Yes, Hannah?” 

“I loved it! It was _sooo_ romantic,” Hannah clasps her hands together. Her eyelashes flutter and her eyes glaze over as she daydreams about the nonexistent romance in the novel. 

Hannah completely missed the point of the stupid book, Cassandra thinks. She’s surrounded by idiots. 

She scoffs, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair. 

Unfortunately, Jasper catches sight of it. “Do you have something to say, Cassandra?” 

She glances around the room, all eyes watching her. 

“Romantic? _Hemingway_?” She sits up straighter. “He was an abusive, alcoholic misogynist who had a lot of cats.” 

“As opposed to an ice cold bitch who has no friends?” Lucas snickers. 

Jasper hushes him and then motions for Cassandra to continue. 

She lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Look, I’m just saying that society all but worships _assholes_ ,” she shoots daggers at Lucas, “for no good reason.” 

A few people, Bobby included, snicker at the comment. 

“Cassandra! That’s _inappropriate_!” 

“You didn’t say shit when Lucas spoke out.” 

Jasper turns beet red as he raises his voice. “Go see Miss Hope. _Now_.” 

Cassandra scoffs and snatches her belongings. “You’ve just proved my point,” she says, stomping out. 

Bobby and Gary exchange a glance. The rest of the class stays silent for a moment before Jasper proceeds with the class. 

\--- 

“So you’re terrorizing Jasper again, are we?” Hope asks with her usual disapproving look. It’s practically engraved on her face by now. 

“I wouldn't call it _terrorizing_. Not this time, anyway.” Cassandra rolls her eyes and shifts in her seat. “Look, Lucas called me a bitch, and no one said anything, so I called him an asshole. Now _I’m_ the one in the office.” She crosses her arms. “This is ridiculous.” 

“Cassie—” 

“Cassandra.” 

“Cassandra, whatever problems you have with Lucas—” 

“I do _not_ have any problems with him!” 

Okay, maybe she does, but it's need-to-know. And Miss Hope _doesn't_ need to know. 

“He's just a stupid, self-righteous asshole who needs to be put in his place,” Cassandra raises her voice. 

“You clearly have some sort of history with him. Need I remind you of your last visit here? You nearly sent him to the hospital,” Hope gives her a pointed look. 

“He grabbed my ass!” 

“I suggest you sort it out and not let him ruin the rest of your senior year.” 

“Fine. I’ll _try_ to be nice,” Cassandra huffs. “No promises, though,” she mumbles under her breath. 

“That’s all I ask,” Hope smiles, “You and McKenzie really fill up my schedule.” 

With that, Cassandra leaves the office and makes her way through the crowds of students trying to get home. 

She finds her best friend Priya in all her sunkissed, bronze glory leaning against her locker, waiting. 

“Hey Cassie,” Priya says, flipping her thick red hair over her shoulder and moving out of the locker’s way. “Why’d you have to see Miss Hope again?” 

“Lucas called me a bitch in English,” she rolls her eyes for what feels like the hundredth time that day. “So I called him an asshole. It's only fair,” she says innocently as she opens her locker. 

Priya lets out her smooth, melodic laugh. “Oh, hon, he’s not worth any more of your time. He’s just trying to push your buttons.” 

She groans, “I know, but I hate that he gets away with it.” She gathers the books she needs from her locker and slams it shut. “And he called me a bitch. I mean, he's right, but he shouldn't say it.” 

Priya chuckles. “Just ignore them, Cass, you’re so much better than what they think you are.” 

“Yeah…” she half-heartedly agrees. 

They hang by the lockers for a bit, telling each other about their days. 

In the middle of one of Priya’s stories, Cassandra catches quite a bit of motion out of the corner of her eyes. 

Her gaze flits away from Priya and towards Bobby, who’s speedily walking down the hall towards them. 

While the crowds of students don't fall silent as he passes, they definitely make sure to stay out of his way. Interesting. Not many people have similar reactions to her. 

His determined hazel eyes focus on the exit straight ahead, rarely flickering to other faces. 

When he gets closer, she sees that his shirt, tattered with use, reads “Paisley Cuddle.” 

What does that even mean? 

He spares a glance at her for a moment and catches her eye, for maybe a second too long, then he and his big dumb combat boots continue their way out of the school. 

“Who’s that?” Priya questions as soon as he’s out of earshot. 

“Bobby McKenzie.” 

“What’s his deal?” 

“Honestly? No idea,” Cassandra shrugs. “He's kind of an idiot in class,” she says. “All I know is that he disappeared for like a year. I overheard people saying that he may have gone to juvie or something. I dunno if I believe that, though.” 

They start walking towards the exit. 

Priya hums. “Either way, he’s pretty cute.” 

“I guess.” 

“Cassie, you were staring.” 

“Was not.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading ! <3  
> i'll be updating every friday ! (except today SJDKSJDHK)


	3. i hate it when you stare

Bobby rubs the sleepiness out of his eyes as he flutters his eyelids open the next morning. The faded blue light creeps in through his shutters, telling him that the sun hadn’t quite risen yet. 

The flashing green lights of his clock indicate that he’s beaten his alarm by ten minutes. Again. 

He reaches over to turn off the alarm, then jumps out of bed and into the shower. The warm water beats against his freckled face, washing away the rest of his drowsiness. 

After getting dressed, he creeps down the stairs, careful not to wake his father, who came home late from the night shift at Esme’s Bakery, the family business. He grabs his phone, his bag, and breakfast (an apple), and heads out the door. 

The sun has partially risen at this point. The sky’s still grey and overcast, but streaks of orange and pink are starting to appear in front of him, softly waking up the city. The streets are still quite dark, flickering street lamps doing almost nothing to illuminate them. 

The walk to the bakery’s quite lengthy, but he barely notices it anymore. He enjoys the crisp calmness of this time of day—nobody’s awake to bother him. 

He bites into the apple with a loud _crunch,_ breaking the silence of the morning. 

Bobby lets himself into Esme’s and sets his things down. 

On the counter, he finds a little crinkled, oil-stained note stuck to a large container. 

_Bobby, pls prep sourdough._

_Love ya._

_Pops._

He pries open the container to find a pasty, bubbly concoction, the sourdough starter his father must've prepared last night. 

He washes his hands and gets to work. Years and years of kneading dough and baking bread with his mother has ingrained the motions into his muscles. 

Bobby lets his mind wander as his body moves on its own, muscle memory taking over. 

He keeps thinking about the stupid “favor” he owes Lucas. 

With his father’s income going straight to the household and to Esme’s Bakery, there really isn’t any room for him to buy his own guitar for the band. 

So, he’s had to borrow Lucas’s, in return for a favor, which would be collected whenever Lucas feels like it. 

Bobby grabs a large mixing bowl, fills it with water, and drops the sourdough starter inside. The water immediately turns from a clear to translucent white. 

Why’d he agree to their stupid arrangement? 

He aggressively dips his hands into the bowl, flinching when some water splashes onto his face. 

_Ugh_. He wipes his face with the back of his sleeve, scowling at the lifeless bowl. 

He gingerly mixes the ingredients, turning it into a thick paste. 

He was just desperate at the time, he guesses. He needed a guitar so he could keep playing with Paisley Cuddle, but he couldn’t afford rentals anymore. 

He goes to the storage room to grab a giant container of flour and pours some in, expertly eyeing the amount needed. 

Lucas happened to have a bass guitar he didn’t even know how to play and he happened to overhear Bobby’s conversation with Gary about needing one. So now Bobby's got this favor hanging over his head. 

He dips his hands into the bowl again; this time the flour’s putting up some resistance. 

He’s got a bass he could play, which is great and all, but he’s just sitting around waiting for Lucas to collect. He knows Lucas is waiting for something really good. He's probably going to regret it when the time comes. 

He folds the dough onto itself, dusting it with some flour. 

It’s only a matter of time, really, before Lucas comes to collect. 

He sinks his hands into the dough, pushing and pulling it, letting his frustrations out on it. 

What would Lucas even _want_ from him? 

The dough takes the shape of his fingers as he presses into it. 

Probably something stupid. 

It eventually becomes stretchy and smooth, forming whatever shape he wants. 

Ugh, if only he could afford the rentals. 

\--- 

When Bobby finishes his bakery duties, he heads to school. Classes don’t start for another hour, so he's got a lot of time to practice. 

The sound of his footsteps echoes down the empty hall of the music department, bouncing off the linoleum walls, not a soul to disturb it. 

He walks to the end of the hall, peeking into his favorite practice room, before turning the knob with a creak. 

His bass guitar is sitting right where he left it last time, untouched in the corner of the room. 

It’s not _his_ , he sighs. He’s not the owner of this Squier Affinity, despite being its sole user. 

He plugs in the guitar, settling down on the bench. 

As he tunes it, his tense body relaxes around the instrument. 

A smile dances across his lips as excitement flits across his body. 

He starts playing his favorite song, all of his worries about Lucas melting away with every strum as he loses himself in the music. 

\--- 

Noah’s leaning against his parked car, checking up on tutoring sessions on his phone, when Henrik arrives. 

They walk into the school together, comfortably filling the silence with idle chatter as if they’ve known each other for years. 

With half an hour before classes start, the hallway is bustling with excited chatter. Friends are happy to see each other once again, as if they didn’t see each other the day before. Even the dull fluorescent lights seem to flicker with glee. 

When they walk down the hall, many people stop to acknowledge Noah. A small wave, a nod, a “hello.” He cordially returns them all with a smile, mindful of his interactions with current and future clientele. 

He’s grown up with most of his classmates, but his extensive network comes from tutoring management. He’s helped so many students with it, whether it was to set someone up with their crush or to actually pass a class. 

For this, almost all of the kids are in his debt. 

Almost. 

When one of the larger students arrives, he starts barrelling his way through anyone and everyone who gets in his way. 

“Move it, nerds!” He shoves the duo aside. He glances back and takes in Henrik’s appearance. “And get a haircut, newbie!” he spits before he continues milling his way down the hall. 

“Don't listen to Jakub. He’s an idiot,” Noah consoles Henrik and squeezes his shoulder. 

Henrik sighs, “It's nothing I'm not used to, anyway.” He opens his locker, which is, thankfully, near Noah’s. 

Noah gives him a sad smile, an all too familiar sinking feeling tingling in his stomach. He shakes it off before it settles, absentmindedly opening his locker. 

Being well-known isn't the same as being well-liked. 

“So,” Henrik says, cutting into Noah’s thoughts. “What do you think of Bobby for, you know…” he leaned in conspiratorially, “...the plan?” 

“I dunno,” Noah shrugs. “Bobby pretty much keeps to himself,” he says, closing his locker. “Why can’t we get someone else to do it?” 

Henrik thinks about it for a moment. “Nah. It’s gotta be him. From what I’ve seen, he’s probably the only one in this whole place who isn’t afraid of her. I mean, they're both kinda scary.” He shivers slightly. 

“Well, he won’t do it for the sake of doing it, that’s for sure. You proved that yesterday,” Noah snickers and nudges Henrik’s side. 

Henrik ignores Noah’s remark. “What should we do? It’s not like we could _scare_ him into doing it.” 

“We can look to the source of pretty much anyone’s motivation.” 

Henrik raises an eyebrow. 

“Money.” 

“Oh yeah? With whose wallet?” 

Huh. He didn't think that part through. 

“Well, if you _do_ manage to date Chelsea, you’d be up there with the rest of the jocks. No more random kids picking on you. Or me,” Noah says. 

“That’s true, but I’m not doing this for popularity or whatever. It’s all for her.” 

“You melt, you barely know her,” Noah rolls his eyes. 

“For _now_.” 

Just then, Noah sees Lucas walking down the hall with his popular, and annoyingly rich, posse, Ibrahim, Elisa, and a few others. 

Many stop mid-conversation to gawk at them, and for good reason. They’re tall. They’re attractive. They’re rich. They’re fashionable. They command the attention of any room they walk into. 

Lucas is walking front and center, as if he’s leading them into battle. His imported Italian leather jacket glistens under the fluorescent lights, adding to his imposing figure. 

Why must you wear a solid gold necklace or a designer t-shirt to _high school?_

Noah tries to stifle an eye roll as they walk past. 

And then it clicks. 

Lucas. 

Lucas would be _perfect_ for the plan. 

Noah’s eyes twinkle as the beginnings of a plan form in his mind. “I have an idea.” 

\--- 

“Dude,” Ibrahim nudges Lucas. “Look,” he points to Chelsea, who’s checking herself out in her locker’s mirror. 

Her little pink dress lands on her thigh, at the border between short and too short. 

Cheeky. 

She’s cute. No question about it. She’s also sweet and kind and bubbly and funny and, well, perfect, really. There’s a reason pretty much everyone on campus has a crush on her. 

Lucas needs to have her. 

And when he does—yes, “when,” because he _always_ gets what he wants—he knows it’d piss Cassandra off to no end. 

Win-win. 

“Bet you $500 can’t get with her by prom,” Ibrahim snickers along with the rest of the group, then high fives someone. 

“Keep your money, Rahim,” a devilish grin growing on Lucas’ face. “This isn't for business. Just pleasure.” 

\--- 

Chelsea scrunches her face up at her reflection in her locker’s mirror, looking for any makeup smudges. 

Looking good, she smiles to herself. 

Oh! She notices her lips didn’t have any more lip gloss. Better fix that. 

She rummages through her bag, feeling around for her favorite tube of clear lip gloss. Pouting at the mirror, Chelsea generously applies the lip gloss over her full lips, smacking them together when she’s satisfied. 

Can’t have chapped lips, right? 

She closes the locker door and sees Lucas down the hall. 

Oh my gosh, it's _Lucas_! 

He's wearing his trademark smirk and he's walking towards her. 

Oh my gosh, he's coming this way! 

He's so cute. Like really cute. Like really, really cute. 

He’s crafted by the gods. (It says so in the girls’ bathroom, so it _must_ be true.) 

Good thing she just put on some lip gloss! 

She straightens her dress and smiles widely at him as he approaches. 

“Hey, Chels,” Lucas grins, taking his time looking her up and down. 

An involuntary fit of giggles bubbles out of Chelsea’s mouth. He's totally checking her out and she loves it. 

“Hi, Lucas,” she smiles up at him. 

“You going to Tim’s party?” 

“Mhm,” she hums, “Hopefully.” 

“Good. I’m not gonna bother if you’re not,” he winks and walks away. 

When he’s out of earshot, Chelsea lets out an excited shriek, earning looks from students passing by. 

Just in time, Blake walks up to Chelsea, eyebrows furrowed in question. She’s heard her shriek from down the hall. 

“Oh my god, Blake, Lucas just said hi to me!” Chelsea shrieks. Again. “And we _have_ to go to Tim’s party now.” 

Blake winces at the shrill sound, still unused to her best friend’s explosive energy after years and years of knowing her. It’s a wonder her hearing isn't damaged by now, she thinks. 

“I think he likes me,” Chelsea sighs dreamily at the sight of him walking down the far end of the hall, “Don't you think he likes me?” She turns to face Blake, who quickly wipes the frown off her face, but Chelsea doesn't seem to notice. 

Blake plasters on a fake smile and nods. “Mhm. Yes.” 

Chelsea squeals, satisfied with the answer. “I knew it! He’s totes into me. I mean why else would he talk about the party?” She giggles. “Isn't it great how all these guys are into me?!” 

“Mhm. Yes,” Blake repeats, barely listening, or caring, or both. The ghost of a frown begins to form on her lips. 

“I really really really really really like him,” Chelsea grins. “I hope he asks me to prom too.” 

She starts walking to class alongside Blake, whose frown deepens. 

\--- 

“You do it,” Henrik says, shoving Noah. 

“I don’t wanna. _You_ do it,” Noah says, shoving him back. 

“No, you.” Shove. 

“No, _you_.” Shove. 

This goes on for much longer than it should have. 

Noah and Henrik are eyeing Lucas and his posse from the far end of the cafeteria during lunch and they're arguing over who has to talk to him for “the plan,” their master plan to set Henrik up with Chelsea. 

It’s pretty straightforward. Noah and Henrik have to convince Lucas to pay Bobby to take out Cassandra, so that Chelsea would be allowed to date. They have to make Lucas think that it’s so he could go out with Chelsea, but really, it’s so that Henrik could swoop in later. 

Simple, right? 

“Okay,” Noah sighs, “Let’s flip a coin.” He digs into his pockets, feeling around for a quarter. 

“Heads,” Henrik says. 

Noah tosses the coin in the air. 

He catches it. 

Heads. 

_Crap_. 

And so, there Noah goes, reluctantly walking over to Lucas, his pace slowing down considerably as he approaches the table. Each step he takes seems to wind him up tighter, his nerves pulled taut. He really only talks to Lucas when he needs to, which is for tutoring business. 

Now that Noah has to convince Lucas to do something, he’s sure he’d be met with some serious consequences if he says or does the wrong thing. 

A bead of sweat forms on his temple. 

When he gets within earshot of the popular table, he hears Elisa gushing about some party Tim is having soon. 

Sweat slides down the side of his face. Shit. 

He has a plan in mind; it’s just a matter of execution. 

“Hey, Lucas,” Noah says, but it sounds more like a question. Great. 

“What do you want, Noah?” Lucas says, not bothering to look up. “I’ve already fulfilled my tutoring requirements this month.” 

Lucas is perfect on paper, but his personality is... not. 

Guess you can’t have it all, huh? 

“That’s not why I’m here,” Noah says. 

“Then what?” 

Noah hopes Lucas, like the rest of the male population at the Villa, has a thing for Chelsea. It's very likely that he does. 

But on the off chance he doesn't, though, the plan would fall apart before it even begins. 

“You have the hots for Chelsea,” Noah says as calmly as he could, despite his apprehension. 

Lucas finally looks up, eyeing Noah. “Yeah, and? So does the entire student body. What's your point?” 

“I have a proposition.” 

“No.” 

“Hear me out.” 

“Let me think. No.” 

“I just wanna help.” 

Lucas rolls his eyes. “You've got one minute.” 

“So you already know that you can't date Chelsea unless someone's dating Cassandra.” 

“Uh huh…” 

“Well, why not hire someone who would?” 

“Who? I don't think anyone would be willing to go out with her, even if they're paid to.” 

“Actually, I have a contender. Look,” Noah motions in Bobby’s direction. 

Bobby’s sitting with Gary, and they’re trying to throw M&M’s in each other’s mouths. 

“Bobby’s got potential. He doesn’t scare easily,” Noah says. 

“Maybe,” Lucas takes a moment to ponder. “But didn’t he go to juvie or something?” 

“I think so. But that means he isn’t afraid of most things.” 

“I guess so,” Lucas says. “Why are you helping me?” He narrows his eyes. “What do you want?” 

“Say hi to me and my friends when you see us in the hall.” 

Lucas furrows his eyebrows. “That’s it?” 

“Yep.” 

“Cool points. Clever,” Lucas hums. “Alright. You’ve got yourself a deal.” He extends a hand, and Noah shakes it firmly. 

Relieved—and a little surprised—that it worked in one try, Noah walks back over to Henrik with a slight spring in his step. He sits down across from Henrik, grinning. 

“We’re in.” 

\--- 

After school, Bobby stops by the record store before he heads to Esme’s, as he usually does. It’s like he’s a broken record himself. Wake up, Esme’s, school, record store, Esme’s, sleep. 

Though he’s satisfied with digital music streaming, there’s something more authentic about vinyls, so he comes here whenever he can (every day). 

This time’s a little different, though. 

When he opens the door, he isn’t bombarded with the loud rock music he’s accustomed to. 

Instead, it’s quiet. Eerily so. 

He slowly makes his way through the shop, browsing the selection despite the strange atmosphere, and scanning aisles of records and CDs. 

He’s about halfway through the store when his ears catch the faint sound of a tune he can’t place. 

It’s so delicate, it’s like he’ll miss it if he takes a step or lets out a breath. 

He steps further inside, treading lightly. 

The sound gets slightly louder as he approaches the back of the shop. 

He edges his way behind one of the taller shelves, poking his head out just enough to see who’s playing. 

It’s Cassandra. 

She’s settled on a bench, cradling an electric guitar, fingers gliding over the strings with ease as she plays. The guitar’s unplugged, which explains why he could barely hear it. 

She’s so focused on playing, like nothing in the world could distract her from it. 

The pure passion that emanates from within her passes through her fingers and onto the strings, softly bouncing off the walls and casting a spell on him. 

A smile dances across her lips the same way her hands dance across the fretboard. 

He can’t help his own smile that plays on the corners of his mouth as he watches her with awe. 

He just stands there, hidden from view, and lets the faint sound of her music gently envelop him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading ! <3
> 
> i feel like the chapters so far are just a lot of buildup lmao but i swear things will happen soon SDKJSKDJDSKJS


	4. i hate the way you talk to me

“So, can you do it?” 

Noah's request was a little strange, but it needed to be done. 

“After everything you did for Val and I?” Yael glances over at Val sitting beside her. “Of course,” she smiles. 

“Yeah, we got you,” Val chimes in. 

“And you still have my number?” 

Yael nods, whipping out a worn out business card from her backpack. “Yep.” 

“We’ll keep our eyes peeled,” Val says with a wink. 

“Thank you,” Noah smiles, leaning back on his seat. 

Now that the plan’s in motion, Noah wants to make sure that it actually happens, so he's turned to Yael and Val. They're not exactly “friends,” but he knows them well enough to ask for a favor. 

Plus, they kind of owe him. 

With the arrangements settled, Yael and Val walk out of his office. 

Well, it’s just a desk and a few chairs set up in the most abandoned part of the library, but everyone knows it as Noah’s office. 

Noah has asked them to keep an eye on Bobby and Lucas. He wants to make sure that Lucas actually pays Bobby and that Bobby successfully asks Cassandra out. 

You know, for science. 

Yael’s schedule matches Bobby's, and Val’s schedule matches Lucas’s, so they're the perfect spies. 

Noah smiles to himself. It feels good to collect your favors. 

\--- 

Later that day, in P.E. class, Yael is effortlessly jogging in the field alongside her girlfriend Val. They're barely breaking a sweat; their bodies are accustomed to strenuous exercise from cheerleading. 

Yael pushes aside a stray hair that falls on her face, grinning at Val. Val winks back and smiles. 

If it weren't for Noah setting up their first tutoring session, they wouldn't be together today. 

They're talking about Tim’s party when Yael sees Lucas running up ahead, calling out to Bobby. 

“Oi! McKenzie!” Lucas shouts. 

Yael and Val exchange a look. 

Without having to say a word to each other, they both run a little faster. They keep up their pace, running just within earshot of Bobby and Lucas. 

\--- 

“Oi! McKenzie!” Lucas shouts. 

He runs up to Bobby, who just looks at him incredulously before jogging faster. 

“I want to collect,” Lucas calls out from behind him. 

Bobby suddenly halts, ignoring the angry whistles of the teacher. 

Dread fills the pits of his stomach. 

He’s known this day would come, but he wasn’t expecting it so soon. 

Cursing to himself, he lets Lucas catch up to him and then they start jogging. 

“What do you want?” Bobby asks, perhaps more aggressively than intended, as he continues jogging. 

Lucas smirks, “Now, now, don’t you still need that bass?” 

Bobby rolls his eyes. Yeah, he does. 

“What is it, then?” He says, more conscious of his tone. 

“I want _her_ ,” Lucas points to Chelsea, who’s chatting with Blake on the bleachers, their tennis rackets on the ground beside them, long forgotten. “But her father won’t allow her out unless her sister goes out, so I need you take out Cassandra,” he nods to the opposite side of the field, where Cassandra’s jogging by herself. 

That's _a lot_ of work, even for a favor. 

From what he could tell, she's pretty good looking. He isn’t quite sure, though, because she’s usually snarling at someone when he sees her. She all but bites the head off of anyone she talks to. And Bobby likes his head where it is. 

But then there was the time at the record shop. She was so serene. 

Was that just a fever dream? 

He looks over at her. She’s running by herself, and she's glaring at nobody in particular. 

Bobby purses his lips. 

Yeah, that's gotta be it. Fever dream. 

But Lucas is filthy rich. The guy practically oozes money. 

If Bobby could get more out of this, like, say, wads of cash, all his problems would be solved. He wouldn’t have to work as many shifts at Esme’s and he’d be able to buy his own guitar. 

No more owing people favors. 

“I dunno, mate,” Bobby shrugs, “Dates cost money, which I…” he gestures to himself, “...am quite short on.” 

Lucas scoffs. “Forget it.” 

“Forget her sister then,” Bobby smiles innocently and runs ahead. He's walking on thin ice here, but he knows Lucas enough to know what buttons to push. He thinks. 

Lucas sneers as he catches up with Bobby. “I'm not paying you, McKenzie. I'm collecting on the favor _you_ owe me.” 

Okay, maybe not, but Lucas isn’t stupid. Maybe he can reason with him? 

“All I'm saying is, I can't even _do_ you the favor if I haven't got the funds I need to do them,” Bobby says. 

Lucas doesn’t say anything. Bingo. 

“So, what do you say?” Bobby asks. “You need me as much as I need you.” 

“Fine,” Lucas says. “I'll give you $20.” 

“$20? That’s it?” Bobby scoffs. “They cost more than that. When's the last time you've been on a date, man? Your right hand doesn't count.” 

“Fuck _off_ , McKenzie.” 

“Listen,” Bobby says. “Movies are $15 each, that’s $30, popcorn is $20, that’s $50, she might get hungry so we stop for food, that’s $30, gas for me to pick her up and drop her off is another $20.” He put a finger up for each cost he listed. “So we're looking at $100 a date. At _least_.” 

Lucas stays quiet, as if he’s just realized that dates do, in fact, cost money. As ridiculous as he sounds, his math is still correct. (Bobby was just spitting out random numbers that happened to add up, but Lucas didn't know that.) 

“Alright. $50,” Lucas says with finality. 

“$100. You heard me.” 

Lucas groans. “$75.” 

Bobby pretends to think over the offer for longer than necessary, taking an extra moment to stroke his chin. “Alright. Fair enough,” he says, while Lucas scowls. 

Lucas takes his wallet out and sifts through the bills. “Got change for $100?” He asks, handing the note over to Bobby. 

Grinning, Bobby snatches the bill from his hand, shoving it in his pocket. 

“Nope.” 

\--- 

Bobby impatiently bounces his leg as he watches Cassandra and the rest of the soccer team practice from across the field. 

He went there because Gary wanted to hang out before he had to go to Esme’s, but Gary wasn’t even there. He scoffs, _that prick_. 

He was going to leave, but he saw Cassandra practicing, so he figured he might as well shoot his shot. 

The sun’s high in the sky now, and he’s growing more uncomfortable by the second. It feels like the searing heat is cutting through his skin, and he hates every moment of it. 

He swipes off the bead of sweat that forms on his temple. It _definitely_ doesn't help that he’s wearing all black. 

Eventually, the team disperses. They head their own separate ways, and Bobby takes that as his cue. 

Finally. His skin’s practically burning. 

Wiping her forehead with the back of her hand, Cassandra plops down on the bleacher by her bag. She downs more than half of her water bottle, brows furrowing at the bright sunlight. 

Bobby runs up to her, plastering on his most charming smile. “Hey, Cassie!” 

He’s heard Priya and Chelsea call her that a few times, so he figured it'd be fine. 

Right? 

Cassandra snaps her head up, shooting daggers at him. “Don't call me that.” 

Okay, so it isn't. 

“Fine, fine,” he raises his hands in surrender, “Cassandra.” He takes a seat next to her. 

She narrows her eyes at him. “Well? What do you want? Are you lost?” 

“Only in your eyes.” 

Cassandra scoffs. “Seriously? Did you hit your head? The nurse isn’t that far.” 

She stands up, throws her belongings into her duffel bag, and starts walking inside towards the locker room. 

“Naw, I didn’t. But I am hitting on _you_ ,” he winks, following her. She’s already a few paces away, so she doesn't even see it. 

“What? Why?” She turns, giving him an incredulous look. “I literally just got out of practice. I’m sweating like a pig.” 

He laughs, “I happen to like farm animals.” 

“ _What_?” She repeats, scrunching her face up, “You might wanna rethink that line.” 

He chuckles. “I dunno, I miss 92% of the shots I make.” Well, he never actually counts them, but he swears on his wooden spoons that it’s true. (It’s not.) 

Bobby takes wider strides to beat her to the locker room, blocking her entrance and forcing her to look up at him. 

Though she's staring up at him with knitted brows and narrowed eyes, he's realized one very important thing: she's cute. 

He's never gotten a close enough look at her before. 

Maybe this won’t be so bad after all. 

She’s sweating profusely, but the glisten brings attention to her flushed cheeks. 

He grins, much more entertained than he thought he’d be. With all the chatter about her, you'd think she looked more... hag-like. He’s so glad that’s not the case. 

She rolls her eyes. “Go get some help. You're... _unwell_.” She shoves him aside and disappears into the girls’ locker room, slamming the door. 

Bobby’s left standing there, staring at the door, a mix of emotions brewing inside him. Intrigued by her reactions, frustrated he’d have to work harder, and somewhat shocked that she actually said no. 

Who could resist this face? 

Cassandra, apparently. 

He sighs, kicking the air as he walks back outside. 

\--- 

“Go get some help. You're... _unwell_ ,” Cassandra says, slamming the door of the girls’ locker room. 

Yael’s by her locker, which is near the girls’ locker room, when she hears the last half of Bobby's conversation with Cassandra. 

Old business card in hand, Yael texts Noah, telling him about Bobby's failed attempt to woo this cretin. 

\--- 

After practice, Cassandra leaves the record shop with a couple new vinyls in hand. As she reads the tracklist on one of them, a small smile forms on her face, a sense of satisfaction fills her when she finds that most of her favorite songs are included. 

She’s so caught up reading the record jacket that she isn’t watching where she’s going, so, of course, she walks right into someone. 

“Oof. Sorry, didn’t see you there,” she says, looking up. It’s Bobby, grinning down at her. “Oh, it’s you again,” she scrunches her face up, “Never mind, no I’m not.” 

“I see you’re the one hitting on me now,” he winks. 

“Ugh,” she rolls her eyes and walks around him. 

“You know, that outfit could make soufflés rise.” 

“I- What?” She whips her head around. 

“I'm just saying.” 

“Whatever. Why are you here? Are you following me now?” She shoves her vinyls in her bag and walks towards her bike, not bothering to wait for an answer. 

“No, of course not,” he trails behind her, “I always go to the record shop after school,” he stops in front of her bike. 

“Oh,” she furrows her brows. She’s never seen him here before. Weird. “Well, you're here. Go buy some records then,” she waves to the store. 

“I will, but I wanted to say hi.” 

“Hi.” She puts on her helmet. “Bye.” 

“I just wanted to talk,” he leans on the handles. 

“We talked. The conversation ended.” 

“Not much of a talker, huh?” 

“No,” she mounts her bike. 

“Why not?” 

She simply raises an eyebrow at him before pulling the visor down and revving the engine. 

Bobby steps away, resigned. 

“Cassie!” a familiar voice calls from a distance. 

She freezes. Shit. 

She knows exactly who it is, but she still looks back, despite herself. Lucas is getting out of his obnoxious cherry red convertible and making his way towards her. 

Ugh. Why? 

Maybe if she doesn't say anything, he'll go away. 

She revs her engine again, getting ready to go. She’s got more important things to do. Like, literally anything else. 

He jogs up to her, blocking her exit. “Isn’t it a little early for demons to be out?” he says, bending slightly so they’re at eye level. 

Though he can't see her glaring at him from under her helmet, he can certainly feel it. His smirk wavers for just a moment. 

“Out of my way,” she says through gritted teeth. 

“You’ll ride that piece of junk but not me? What a shame,” he says. All he does is smirk at her once more before sauntering over to one of the shops. 

His blatant nonchalance is enough to tip the scales. Her nostrils flare as she tightens the hold on her handles, taking out her anger on her poor bike. She could’ve sworn she saw her helmet fogging up. 

That’s it. She _has_ to do something now. 

Lucas’s convertible shines so annoyingly bright under the afternoon sun, so polished, so posh, so… perfect. 

Not for long. 

It’s mid-afternoon, and there’s some traffic on the road, so there isn’t much space to manoeuvre, but she’s determined to make it work. 

A red light is coming up, so she speeds up towards the intersection, putting some distance between herself and the cars behind her. Just before she hits the crosswalk, she makes a sharp turn, whipping the bike around and leaving nothing but a trail of burnt rubber streaked across the road. 

She revs the throttle as she faces incoming traffic, eyes deftly scanning the area for the best path towards her target. The light turns green and the cars slowly start to move, making way for a direct, but slim, passage straight to Lucas’s car. 

She speeds down the road, narrowly avoiding side mirrors and blatantly ignoring angry honks, gaining enough momentum for what she needs. 

Her heart’s racing, second only to the speed of her bike. Her grip on the handles is so tight, her knuckles are turning white and her nails are digging into the flesh of her palms, but she barely feels it as adrenaline courses through her veins. 

Brows furrowed, jaw clenched, she’s got her heart set on one mission: fuck his car up. 

When she advances towards his parked car, she pops a wheelie, slamming the front half of her bike down on the hood, denting the hard metal and shattering one of the headlights with a deafening crash. 

As if it were nothing, she effortlessly whips back around, rejoining traffic. 

“What the _fuck_ , Cassie?!” Lucas yells as he runs over to caress his car. 

On the sidewalk, Bobby’s doubled over in laughter. 

“ _Shut up_ , McKenzie,” Lucas barks. 

Cassandra glances back at his imploded car and grins to herself, a feeling of smug satisfaction washing over her. 

The light turns green again and she speeds off, weaving through moving traffic. 

\--- 

“McKenzie.” 

The next day, Bobby snaps his head up to find a very angry Lucas walking towards his locker. 

Uh oh. 

“When I shell out a hundred bucks, I expect results,” Lucas spits. 

Okay, so, maybe it's been a week since Bobby tried talking to her, but she's been ignoring him! Or maybe she's just been doing what she usually does. Either way, he hasn’t really had the chance to talk to her again. 

“Watching her wreck my car is _not_ a date.” 

“Relax, Koh, these things take time,” Bobby puts on his most innocent smile as he leans against his locker. 

“Don't forget, I can literally pull the plug on your sad little music career _and_ your cash.” Lucas lowers his voice, locking eyes with Bobby. “Be careful who you piss off.” 

“Mate, she isn't stupid,” he says, unfazed. “A random kid like me got her interest out of nowhere? Obviously it's a little suspicious.” 

“Well, make it happen, McKenzie. Tim's party is coming up soon,” Lucas says, shouldering past him. 

Bobby sighs. What should he do? 

\--- 

Noah’s seated in his office, going through all the information Yael and Val had for him. 

They weren’t there for the car fiasco, but Val overheard Lucas ranting to Rahim about it at school the next day, and he _was not_ happy. Yael also found out that Lucas threatened to pull his funding because Bobby isn’t doing his one job. 

Now Noah’s really feeling the pressure. 

The plan was supposed to be _simple_. Just ask someone out. Easy. Why are these people so damn stubborn? He pinches the bridge of his nose as he sighs. 

Tim's party is this weekend and it's the perfect date for these idiots. Henrik and Bobby both have to take advantage of it. 

Ugh, he should’ve just done all this himself. 

Leaning back on his seat, Noah texts Henrik. 

Henrik  
  
**Noah:** We need inside information on Cassandra. The plan’s come to a standstill.   
**Noah:** We don’t have much time before Tim’s party.  
**Henrik:** how do we get it ?  
**Noah:** Dude, you're tutoring Chelsea, Cassandra’s sister. She's gotta know something.   
**Henrik:** oh yeah !!! i didnt think of that  


Noah sighs. Why does he have to do everything?

Henrik  
  
**Noah:** If you find something we could use, we can bring it to Bobby and get him in on the plan.  
**Henrik:** sounds good!!!  
**Henrik:** wont he run off again 🙀  
**Noah:** Probably not.   
**Noah:** My sources say that he needs some serious help.  
**Henrik:** hmmm okay  
**Noah:** Aren’t you in a tutoring session right now?  
**Henrik:** oh  
**Henrik:** ya lol  
**Noah:** Focus, Henrik.  


\--- 

Henrik puts his phone away, his attention settling back on Chelsea. They spend the next half hour or so going through verb tenses and sentence structure and other stuff. Henrik still doesn’t know how he’s able to concentrate with her near him, but, somehow, he does. 

“Are we done now?” Chelsea says, as they near the end of their time slot. “I've gotta go meet Blake. We’re going shopping for Tim’s party on Saturday. I can't decide whether I wanna wear cream or eggshell so I need her to help me.” 

“Yeah, we’re pretty much done,” Henrik says, closing his textbook. “Don’t forget to do the exercises.” 

“I won’t!” 

“Um... Can _anyone_ go to this party?” he asks, looking away. 

“Mhm, yeah! Why not?” 

“Just wondering,” he chews on the inside of his mouth. “So, uh- are you going with anyone?” 

“I'm just going with Blake.” 

“Will I see you there?” 

“Yep!” 

Henrik can’t help the smile that grows on his face. 

A comfortable silence falls over them as they clean up their belongings. Henrik figures now is as good a time as any to ask about Cassandra. 

“Hey, Chelsea?” 

“Yeah?” 

“What can you tell me about your sister?” 

“She _loves_ music. She’s pretty much angry about everything, but when she’s listening to or playing music, she looks pretty calm. It’s nice. It’s kind of like how I feel when I decorate my room!” she giggles. 

“Do you know what kind of music she likes?” 

“Not really, but she posts a lot of it online. I can look for it,” she takes out her phone and looks for Cassandra’s Instagram. “Wait, why are you asking?” 

“Oh- Uh- I- Well-” A familiar heat spreads across his cheeks. 

She tilts her head as she watches him gather the words. 

“Um, Noah and I’ve got a plan to set her up with someone.” 

“Really?! Who?!” her voice seems louder as it echoes throughout the empty library. 

“Bobby.” 

“Bobby? Didn't he go to juvie?” She raises an eyebrow. 

Henrik shrugs. “Probably.” 

“Well, they're both… repulsive,” she purses her lips. “Huh, I guess that could work.” 

“And if he's been to juvie before, he wouldn't be afraid of your sister,” Henrik says. “No offense,” he quickly adds. 

Chelsea just grins, her attention going back to her phone. 

“Hey Chelsea?” 

“Hmm?” She continues scrolling. 

“Would you ever wanna go climbing? You know, like, with me? Maybe? You don't have to if you don't want to but I think you'd look good climbing with me. I mean I think you'd make any view look better.” He mentally slaps himself as soon as he finishes rambling. Smooth. Real smooth. 

“Oh, sure!” she says, never looking up from her phone. 

He grins as the butterflies in his stomach stir with excitement. 

After a few minutes of extensive research, Chelsea finds a lot of information about Cassandra’s interests. Her profile is filled to the brim with photos and videos of concerts. Chelsea reads out anything she thinks is important as Henrik takes notes. 

Guess he's the one being tutored now. 

“Oh, look!” Chelsea pulls up Cassandra’s story. “Henrik, look at this photo! It's her favorite band, and she says she can't wait to see them again this weekend! There must be a concert!” 

“Perfect, this is exactly what we need,” he says. “When is it?” 

Chelsea hums, tapping on her phone. “It’s on Friday!” 

“Nice, I'll tell Noah.” 

She grins at him. 

He returns the smile like a lovesick puppy. 

\--- 

During chemistry the next day, Henrik tells Noah all about his conversation with Chelsea. 

“The plan’s finally coming together,” Noah says with a relieved sigh. “We just have to get Bobby in on it.” 

“Yeah, like _that's_ easy.” 

“He can’t say no to our intel.” 

After class, Henrik walks to the back of the classroom, back straight and standing tall, armed with all this information he's gotten from Chelsea. Noah quickly trails behind. 

“Hey, Bobby,” Henrik says. 

Bobby eyes him, looking up from his seat. “You again? What d’you want, mate?” 

“Henrik has a major crush on Chelsea,” Noah says. 

Henrik flushes. 

“You too? What’s so special about this girl? She got beer flavored nipples or something?” 

“What?! No!” Henrik protests. “She does _not—_ ” 

Noah puts a hand on his shoulder, silently telling him to calm down. 

Bobby’s brow arches as he smirks. 

“Henrik’s love is pure. Purer than, say, Lucas’s,” Noah says. 

“Look, Lucas can plow whoever he wants. I’m just in it for the cash,” Bobby says, getting up out of his seat. 

“There will _be_ no plowing! She—” Henrik starts, hands balling into fists on his sides. 

Noah clears his throat. “The point is, we can help you.” 

Bobby raises an eyebrow, “Why? So _Lucas_ can get the girl?” 

“We set the whole thing up so Henrik can go out with Chelsea. Lucas is just a pawn,” Noah explains. 

“A pawn, huh?” Bobby smirks. “And what if he finds out?” 

“He won't,” Henrik says, his previous anger slowly turning into determination. 

Well, he hopes. 

Bobby grins at the thought, amused that Lucas would eventually get pied off, by the new kid, no less. 

But he still isn't convinced. “Are you _sure_ this is going to work?” 

Henrik and Noah look at each other and nod. 

“We have inside information,” Henrik says, taking out his notes about Cassandra. “You help us, and we’ll help you.” 

“I'm listening.” 

“Chelsea mentioned that Cassandra really likes this band,” Henrik scans his notes, “Deftones. They have a concert Friday night. Chelsea said she’ll be there. So you should, you know, ‘run into her’ there,” he says, making air quotes, “It’s perfect.” 

“You _sure_ she'll be there? I don't wanna waste my time,” Bobby says. “And I gotta ask for the night off.” 

“Chelsea told me herself,” Henrik says. “Who better to get information from than her own sister?” 

Bobby hums. They have very good points. 

“She'd respond well if you shared the same interests,” Noah says. 

“You could also ask her to Tim’s party. It’s on Saturday. Chelsea was talking about it too,” Henrik chimes in. 

Bobby thinks about it for a moment, not finding any holes in this plan. “Alright, lads, let’s do it.” 

“Here.” Noah reaches into his bag and hands Bobby his business card. 

“Uh, thanks?” Bobby takes the card, narrowing his eyes at it. 

“Text me and we’ll arrange the details,” Noah says. 

Why does he have his own card? 

\--- 

Bobby has just settled into bed that evening when his phone dings. 

Noah & Henrik  
  
Noah   
**Noah:** So are we all on the same page?  
Henrik   
**Henrik:** what page is it on ???  
Noah   
**Noah:** I mean the plan, Henrik.  
Henrik   
**Henrik:** ohhhh  


He facepalms. Why is he even in this group chat?

Noah & Henrik  
  
**Bobby:** do i need 2 be in this gc?  
Noah   
**Noah:** Yes, you’re part of the plan.  
Henrik   
**Henrik:** you’re THE plan !!!!  
**Bobby:** ok  
Noah   
**Noah:** Are you still free to go to the concert Friday night? Just want to make sure.   
**Bobby:** yeah my dad said i could have the night off   
Noah   
**Noah:** Should we go there with you? Do you need any help?  
**Bobby:** no it’ll be sus if a bunch of us from school are there  
  


And they’d stick out like sore thumbs.

Noah & Henrik  
  
Henrik   
**Henrik:** we could be your wingmen !!  
Noah   
**Noah:** Oh, true.  
**Noah:** Well, ring us if you need any help.  
Henrik   
**Henrik:** yeah !!! i got a mean right hook  
Noah   
**Noah:** Aren’t you a lefty?  
Henrik   
**Henrik:** yeah so ???  
Noah   
**Noah:** Why would you need to fight someone, anyway?  
  


Bobby sighs.

Noah & Henrik  
  
**Bobby:** 😐  
**Bobby:** night guys  
Noah   
**Noah:** Goodnight!  
Henrik   
**Henrik:** nite !!!  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmm this was kind of a long one lmao 
> 
> thanks for reading !! <3


	5. i hate the way you read my mind

“You did _what_ to his car?!” 

It’s Friday after school, and Cassandra’s sitting at the dining room table. Dad’s pacing back and forth, his face completely flushed with anger. He’s just gotten a phone call from the Kohs and from the insurance company, informing him of her… hit and run, so to speak. 

“You know my insurance doesn't cover temper tantrums right?” Dad says. His face starts to flush as he seethes in anger. 

“Dad, I–” 

“Do you think I spend countless days and nights elbow deep in uteri just to repair the Kohs’ car?” 

She grimaces at the mental image. 

“How the hell am I supposed to face them at the hospital now, hmm?” he runs a hand over his face. 

Cassandra sighs and leans back on her seat, letting her father continue his tirade. She zones out a bit when he starts to repeat the same reprimands he’s given her her whole life. 

“This is ridiculous ...know how much this costs? ...be more responsible …a bad example for your sister,” he goes on and on. 

She’s mastered the art of nodding intently at the right times. 

“I'm taking away your bike,” he says, as she snaps back into the conversation. 

“ _What?!_ Why?!” she slams her hands down on the table. “How am I supposed to get to school?” But realization hits her as soon as the words leave her mouth. “Oh no. No.” 

“You could take the minivan.” 

She scowls at the thought. She opens her mouth to protest, but– 

“Or you could carpool. Pick your poison.” 

Cassandra sighs again, knowing that there’s really no arguing at this point. 

“Keys.” Dad holds his hand out. 

She shoves her hands into her pockets, fishing for the hard metal. She reluctantly hands him her keys in exchange for the minivan keys. She sighs, pocketing them, then heads up to her room. 

It’s unfair, really. 

She shuts the door, tossing the keys onto her vanity. 

Her face contorts as her mind goes back to the day before. She was in such a good mood leaving the record shop, but, of course, she had to see Lucas. She glowers. His name leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. 

Seeing his face just makes her so livid. Hearing him _say_ such vile things—ugh—her fists clench once more at the utter audacity. The simple thought of him makes her blood boil. 

If he just shut his damn pie hole for one measly second, she wouldn’t have gotten mad and wrecked his car. 

So, it’s his fault. Obviously. He deserves it. 

He could’ve just stayed quiet and she would’ve just left. She rolls her eyes. She was trying to get rid of Bobby anyways. 

Oh, right. Bobby. 

She sits on the bed, brows furrowing. Why does he keep bothering her? He’s being more irritating than usual. It doesn’t seem like her snarky remarks are enough to push him away. She can only hope that he leaves her alone soon. 

First Lucas and now Bobby? Boys are so annoying. 

Suddenly faced with exhaustion, she lets herself fall onto the bed, reveling in the comforting smell of fresh sheets and the feel of her plush duvet. 

She feels around for her headphones and slides them on. As the familiar sound of Deftones surrounds her, she feels her heart rate slowing down and she sinks further into the sheets. 

At least there’s the concert tonight. 

She sighs contentedly at the thought, letting her eyes flutter closed. 

\--- 

An hour or so later, Cassandra wakes up. 

The sunset casts her room in various shades of orange and pink, and she squints at the bright light. 

She doesn’t even remember falling asleep, but the indents on her arms are enough proof. 

She lazes around on her bed a little bit more before heading to the living room. She makes herself comfortable on the couch, curling up under a blanket with her favorite book _Call It What You Want._ When she loses herself in the story, her dad walks in. 

“Do you know where Chelsea is?” he asks. “It's getting late.” 

Right on cue, Chelsea bursts through the doors. “Hi daddy!” 

Dad narrows his eyes at her. “Where have you been?” 

“Umm..,” she hides the huge paper shopping bags behind her, as if it'd help her case. 

The ear splitting sound of an engine cuts through the quiet afternoon, answering for her. The three of them turn towards the window, catching sight of a very familiar cherry red sports car driving away. 

_Of course_ Lucas already had it fixed. 

Despite her punishment, though, Cassandra can’t help but snicker as she remembers Lucas’s bewildered expression after she imploded his car. 

Dad shoots her an angry look, quickly shutting her up. 

“Who was _that_?” Dad asks sternly. 

“Your worst nightmare,” Cassandra mutters. 

Chelsea glares at her. “Don’t get mad,” she says, slowly facing him. Cassandra just rolls her eyes, knowing exactly what was coming next. “There’s this boy, Lucas Koh. And there’s this party—” 

“Oh, Lucas. He's a good kid,” he visibly relaxes. “Wait, Lucas?!” He straightens back up. “A _boy_?! No! Absolutely not.” 

“Please?” she puts on her best pair of puppy dog eyes. Cassandra rolls her eyes. 

“You aren’t dating until your sister starts dating and that’s final. You know the rules.” 

“But what if Cassie never dates?” Chelsea pouts. 

“Then you’ll never date, and I can sleep at night,” Dad says with a smug grin. 

“But daddy! She doesn’t even _want_ to date. _I do!_ ” Chelsea throws her hands up in the air. 

“No buts.” Dad crosses his arms. 

“Ugh!” Chelsea’s fists clench, rustling the paper bags in her hands. She turns to face Cassandra. “Can’t you be _normal_ for once?” she runs upstairs and slams her door shut. 

Cassandra frowns. 

Not a moment later, they hear cursing and doors slamming. They both flinch at the sound of glass breaking. 

“I’ll go talk to her,” Cassandra says, getting up. 

\--- 

Cassandra knocks on Chelsea’s door before warily going in. 

Chelsea’s room is a mess. What was once a meticulously decorated space is now destroyed. Clothes are strewn about, furniture is scattered around the room, a broken vase lies in the corner, and Chelsea's in the eye of the storm. 

A box of clothing flies through the air, landing on the ground with a _thud_. 

“Hey,” Cassandra says. 

Chelsea ignores her. She throws another bundle of clothes. A flying sock narrowly misses Cassandra’s face. 

“Why are you so hung up on Lucas?” Cassandra says, “He isn’t as amazing as he seems.” 

Chelsea finally stops ransacking her room to scoff and face Cassandra. “How would _you_ know that? You gave up your popularity before you even got to know him.” 

Cassandra flinches. “That’s not–” She glances away, unsure of what to say. It's certainly not true. She _did_ get to know him, but she wishes she hadn't. “I’m just worried about you.” 

“Well, don’t be. I’m almost 16 and I can make my own decisions.” 

“Just because you’re 16 doesn’t mean you’re an adult.” 

“You _just_ turned 18, you’re barely an adult yourself.” 

Cassandra rolls her eyes. “I don't need to be an adult to know that Lucas is bad news.” 

“Why do you even care?” 

Cassandra sighs, she knows Chelsea won't budge, especially when she's angry. “Whatever, I have a concert to get to.” She shuts the door behind her and Chelsea's fit continues. 

\--- 

Later that night, Bobby finds himself inside Nuggobby Club (he quite likes this name—he wishes he thought of it first), and there’s barely any space to move. A sea of sweaty bodies fills the small venue, and he’s gotta find one specific girl in it. 

Easy. Like finding a drop in the ocean. 

He elbows his way through the crowd, struggling to find his footing. He keeps stepping on someone's toes (oops) or something sticky (gross). Some areas are stickier than most. He tries not to think about how they got that way. He finds a rhythm eventually, expertly dodging person after person. 

He's been to a lot of shows before, but he's gotten so busy with Esme’s and his band that he hasn't had the time to truly enjoy a show. He's almost forgotten that being in the crowd stimulates all the senses. The feel of strangers’ body heat, the smell of sweat and beer, the deep rumbles of the bass, the blinding lights above, the taste of excitement. It's all so overwhelming, yet he’s completely at home. 

Finally stumbling upon a clearing by the bar, Bobby takes a seat and orders a drink, turning to face the stage. 

How the hell is he gonna find her in this crowd? 

As the current song ends, the band takes a moment to regroup. The crowd parts as if to take a breath, and then moves back in. 

The next song starts to play and people start throwing their hands up in the air and moving their bodies to the beat. 

And then, like some strange twist of fate—is this fate? He's not sure. Maybe it’s just dumb luck, but the crowd reshuffles and parts exactly where she is. 

The same passion he saw before, back in the record shop, is on display again as she lets it move her body. The rest of the crowd seems to fall away. Next to her, their enthusiasm is nothing. 

She was a little more reserved at the record shop, but here, all her inhibitions are down. There's no trace of anger or annoyance in her expression, it's as if she's truly letting go. 

Hips swaying and hair flowing, she spins in place as she dances to the rhythm. Her body's slick with sweat, but she doesn't seem to notice or care; she just keeps moving. Her brows are creased with passion as she belts out the lyrics like there's no tomorrow. 

She loses herself in the music, and she looks absolutely stunning when she thinks nobody's watching. 

\--- 

Cassandra’s having a good time swaying to the music, with a smile growing on her face, and not a single care in the world. 

When the song ends, the band takes a little intermission, so she tells Priya she's going to get something to drink. 

She straightens her dress as she walks up to the bar, ordering two bottles of water. While she's waiting for the bartender, she looks around the place aimlessly, happily taking in her surroundings, before she catches a glimpse of someone familiar. She squints to see him in the low light, but it's enough to recognize him. 

Bobby’s casually sprawled out on the stool with one arm leaning on the bar and the other nursing a drink. His gaze is fixed upon the stage, though it’s just the crew tidying up before the next set. Fluorescent lights cast a faded purple hue on him, softening all his features. 

Cassandra rolls her eyes and walks over. “What are you doing here?” 

Bobby turns his head as he approaches, as if he’s been expecting her. “Same as you,” he smirks, taking a sip of his drink. “Enjoying Deftones.” 

“ _You_ like Deftones?” 

“They're pretty damn good.” 

The bartender brings her her water bottles, and before she could grab her wallet, Bobby stops her. He hands them a couple of notes, then smiles at Cassandra. 

She narrows her eyes at him. 

It's weird. It's like he came out of nowhere. No one really talks to her besides Priya and sometimes Noah, but Noah talks to everyone really. Now all of a sudden Bobby seems to be interested in her? It doesn't quite add up. 

“Speechless?” 

She grimaces. “You're so—” 

“Charming?” 

“Annoying.” 

“One of my many talents,” he winks. 

She huffs and takes a sip. 

Deftones gets back on stage, starting up the next song. The music is so forcefully loud, it shakes the venue, literally. 

“You look hotter than gas mark 10,” Bobby yells over the noise. 

“What?” she yells back, inching closer to hear him better. She doesn't realize how close she’s gotten until she feels the heat radiating from his leg. 

He repeats himself a little more loudly, though it doesn’t really help. 

When she finally manages to hear him, she stifles her laughter, not wanting to give him any sort of satisfaction. But she can’t hide her smile quickly enough. 

“Get better lines,” she says, her eyes sparkling despite herself. 

He leans forward slightly, so they're barely inches away from each other. She can almost feel his breath on her cheek. “I saw you out there, you know,” he brushes a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I've never seen you look like that.” 

The tingling sensation from his touch lingers on her face and heat rushes to her face. She blinks back at him, unsure of what to say or do. The gentleness takes her aback, and, for once, she's at a loss for words. 

“Come to Tim’s party with me,” he says. 

She quickly takes a step back, like hearing him say that knocks some sense into her. 

“So I'll pick you up at 9:30?” 

She throws her head back and laughs. He just sounds so ridiculous, she couldn't fight it anymore. “You never give up, do you?” 

“So, is that a no?” he smiles. 

“No.” 

“Then is that a yes?” 

She grins. “See you.” 

She finds Priya and loses herself in the crowd once more. 

\--- 

Her skin tight dress perfectly hugs all of her curves, her fishnet stockings elongate her legs, and Bobby enjoys the _entire_ view as she walks away. For science. 

The sight of her is truly mesmerizing, especially in this setting. She’s so relaxed, so genuine; there’s no wall of anger hiding her true self. 

The most stunning thing that night, though, was her laughter. Bobby barely heard it over the deafening music, but it was there. She threw her head back, her eyes crinkled, and she squished the water bottles. Her whole body seemed to laugh with her. 

Bobby’s having a little trouble breathing now. He wonders when it got so stuffy in here. It’s probably just congestion from all these sweaty people being in one place for so long. Yeah, that’s it. 

His heart goes a mile a minute when he realizes that Tim’s party is tomorrow night because, well, she didn’t say no. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for reading <3


	6. i hate the way you drive my car

“Where's Rocco?” Bobby asks. 

“Late, as usual,” Lottie says, with an eye roll. 

Bobby sighs. Of course. They're gathered in Lottie’s garage, instruments and equipment all ready to go, but their lead guitarist is nowhere to be found. They've been waiting for half an hour now. This isn't news, though; he's been doing this more often than not. 

Bobby is disappointed, but not surprised. 

“Did you text him?” he says. “Why is he always late?” He runs a hand over his face before plopping himself on the couch. 

“Why are you so pressed, mate? You usually don't care,” Gary asks. “Oh wait. I know,” he smirks, spinning a drumstick between his fingers. 

Bobby scoffs. “It's nothing. I just need to get to that party so I could get paid and get my hands on my own guitar. That’s _it_.” 

“It wouldn't hurt to get your hands on something else, right?” Gary wiggles his eyebrows. 

“Mate, if you don't shut up, you'll _catch_ these hands.” 

“Oh, hush, Gary,” Lottie chimes in. “It's nice to see Bobby crushing on someone,” she smiles knowingly, “Even if he won’t admit it.” 

“I am _not—_ ” 

Whatever protests Bobby had are interrupted by his phone dinging. He shoots them a look before checking his phone. 

Noah & Henrik  
  
Henrik   
**Henrik:** bro r u ready for 2nite???  
Noah   
**Noah:** Are we sure that Cassandra is even going?  
**Bobby:** we don’t. but i’ve got a good feeling  
Henrik   
**Henrik:** did u get da ✨vibes ✨  


Bobby starts to smile as his thoughts go to last night. Images of Cassandra swaying to the beat fill his mind, surrounded only by the sound of Deftones. Lottie and Gary exchange a grin, but he doesn’t catch it. 

Noah & Henrik  
  
Henrik   
**Henrik:** did u get da ✨vibes ✨  
**Bobby:** yeah lol  
Henrik   
**Henrik:** hell yeah bro!!!!  
Noah   
**Noah:** As long as the plan is actually in motion.  
**Bobby:** it is  
**Bobby:** i think  
Noah   
**Noah:** Henrik, you should actually text Chelsea to find out for sure, though.  
Henrik   
**Henrik:** on it  


The garage door opens, and Rocco traipses in, taking his sweet time greeting everyone and setting his stuff down. 

“Finally,” Bobby says, getting up. “Let's do this.” 

Rocco furrows his brows. “Why are you in a rush, man? You're kinda killing my vibes,” he says through glazed eyes. 

“I've got things to do,” Bobby says, slinging the bass guitar strap over his shoulder. 

“Like what?” Rocco slowly unpacks his guitar from its carrying case. 

“Like Cassandra,” Gary winks as he settles into the stool behind the drumset. 

Bobby ignores him. “Let’s just do this.” 

Lottie adjusts the microphone. “Sunflower’s up first.” She turns to face the band. “Ready?” 

They all nod eagerly. 

“Alright,” she says, grabbing hold of the mic. “Three… Two… One…” 

\--- 

Henrik is sitting on his bed, hunched over his phone. After Noah said to check up on Chelsea, he has been glued to his phone for the better part of the hour, typing out and deleting text messages. 

It’s not like each variation is all that different, either. Should he send ‘hey’ with one ‘y’ or two? What about exclamation points? If he sends too many, he might sound too eager. But if he doesn’t send any, he might sound unenthusiastic. Should he only send one? Is that weird? 

Ugh. He scratches his head and some long locks fall over his face. Why is texting girls so hard? 

He gets up out of his bed, and starts pacing the room. _Okay,_ think _, Henrik. How do I sound excited, but not too excited, and cool, but not too aloof?_

“Hey, are you going to the party?” he says aloud, while typing it out. 

“Wait, what?” He smacks himself in the forehead. 

Of course she is. She’s the one who told you about it, you dimwit. 

“Hey, are you ready for the party?” That sounds more reasonable. And it opens up some conversation. He thinks. He hopes. 

He lies back down on the bed, holding his phone up in the air. 

Just be casual. Be cool. Don’t be a dork. 

chelsea  
  
**Henrik:** hey! r u ready for da party?  


He doesn’t expect her answer to come back so fast, and the sound and the vibration makes him drop his phone right on his face. 

“Ow…” he whines, rubbing his forehead. “You dumbass,” he mutters to himself. 

When most of the pain fades away, he checks his phone again. 

chelsea  
  
**Henrik:** hey! r u ready for da party?  
**Chelsea:** YESSSSS i can’t wait   
**Henrik:** does this mean you got cassandra to go?  
**Chelsea:** not yet jdskjsdjf but i will!!!   


Now having actual confirmation that she’s going, Henrik gets jittery again. 

Oh no. He has to look nice. He’s gotta make a good first impression. 

Wait, this isn’t really a first impression, is it? This is the first time they’d be hanging out outside of school, so it is sort of a first impression, isn’t it? 

He furrows his brows at the thought. He’s not sure, but he does know that he shouldn’t look like a slob. She’s always dressed so fashionably, so he’s sure that he’d definitely make a good impression if he’s dressed somewhat nicely. Not too nicely, though, because that’s not really him, but nice enough. 

Henrik purses his lips as he sifts through his closet. Most of his clothes are cotton t-shirts and long sleeves, but that makes sense since he cares more for comfort than style. Eventually, he finds a button down shirt in the back of his closet, and holds it up in the air. It’s wrinkled and disheveled from neglect. 

“Good enough for me.” 

\--- 

With Deftones playing from her phone, Cassandra is humming softly to herself as she does her post-shower skincare routine in the bathroom. Whatever serenity she feels is broken when Chelsea bursts through the doors. 

“Cassie! You look so pretty!” she shrieks. 

Cassandra grins, though she's somewhat taken aback. “Thank—” she cuts herself off, narrowing her eyes. “Wait. What do you want?” 

Chelsea pouts. “Why do you assume I want something?” 

Cassandra raises a brow. 

“Okay, fine,” Chelsea sighs. “I want to go to Tim's party tonight, but I can't go unless you go. So, can you go? Please?” she pleads, clasping her hands together. 

Now Chelsea's asking her to go too? 

“No,” Cassandra scoffs and turns back to the mirror. 

“Why not?” 

“I don't want to. A bunch of kids getting drunk and being dumber than usual? Uh, no, thanks.” 

“Could you please be a normal teenager for once? Just once—” 

Chelsea's interrupted by a knock on the front door. 

“Who's that?” she says. 

Cassandra shrugs. 

“Someone’s at the door!” Chelsea yells while Cassandra flinches at the sound. 

\--- 

It’s 9:28 that evening, and Bobby’s standing outside of the Thomas house, feeling like an idiot. 

Showing up here’s a pretty bold move, considering he doesn’t have her number, she never gave him her address, and her agreement was so incredibly vague, it could’ve easily been a no. 

So why is he here? 

He runs a hand over his face and through his dreads, then sighs. 

She didn’t exactly say no. So does that mean it’s a yes, then, and it’s totally okay for him to be here? 

Ugh. He doesn't know. 

Bobby chews on the inside of his mouth. It’s too late now. He’s already in front of her house. If she doesn’t wanna go with him, then that’s the end of that. 

Not that he was looking forward to seeing her. He definitely didn’t wear his best shirt (ironed and all) and his best cologne. 

No, of course not. 

He just wants his own guitar, that's all. This is just business. If he happens to have some fun on the way, then that's just a bonus, right? 

Right. 

He takes a deep breath and knocks steadily on the door. 

“Someone’s at the door!” He hears from inside, raising a brow. It sounds like Chelsea. 

“I have a business call, I can’t get it!” a deeper voice sounds. Their dad, most likely. 

“Ugh, fine, I’ll get it!” Ah, there’s Cassandra. 

Not a moment later, he hears running down the stairs and the door creaks open. 

Immediately, Cassandra scowls at the sight of him, something he’s getting used to now. 

He wonders how she manages to look different every time he sees her. Her hair is slicked back, still sodden from the shower. A few water droplets trickle down the sides of her face and neck, her shirt clinging to the dampness of her body. 

He tries, with all his might, to not notice the black bra underneath her white t-shirt, or the water from her hair leaking onto her shirt. He tries, with all his might, to keep his eyes from lingering and to keep his gaze fixed on her face. Though his intentions may be questionable, his father taught him to treat women with respect so that's exactly what he does. At least, he tries. 

Plus, he really can't afford to let his car meet the same fate Lucas’s car did. 

Cassandra clears her throat, bringing his attention back to her eyes. “Why are you here?” she puts a hand on her hip. 

“It’s 9:30,” he says. “I did say I’d come at this time.” 

“Oh. Right,” she says, as if she's just remembered. “And how do you know where I live?” she asks, crossing her arms. 

“Noah.” They say at the same time. 

She opens her mouth to say something else, but Chelsea suddenly appears behind her. 

“Oh! You actually have a date?!” she grins, grabbing Bobby’s wrist and dragging him inside. He stumbles into the living room. “Can't leave him hanging, right? That'd be so rude.” 

Cassandra sighs, closing the door. “Chelsea, I’m not—” 

“Cassie, let's talk,” she says, yanking her sister’s arm and pulling her to the stairwell. 

When they’re out of his earshot, Bobby takes a moment to look around the living room. There seems to be many exorbitant decorations and art pieces displayed, filling the large space. If it weren't for the warm tones, Bobby would surely feel out of place. 

When he sits on the large leather couch, Bobby’s exhaustion catches up to him. With the early shifts at Esme’s, weekend-long band practices, and now this sort of side gig or whatever, he hasn’t really had any time to himself. 

He sighs as he sinks further into the couch, wondering what it would be like to not have to worry about money. Maybe he should talk to Lucas about getting paid more. 

\--- 

“Please? Can you please go? Just one night! It'll be fun! I already bought an outfit!” Chelsea whisper-yells at her sister. 

“Yeah, with _dad's_ credit card,” Cassandra crosses her arms. 

“I'd be wasting his money if I never used it! Wouldn't that be worse?” Chelsea pouts. 

Cassandra rolls her eyes. “Really?” 

“Please?” she whines, grabbing Cassandra’s arms. “I'll clean the bathroom for a week.” 

Cassandra’s face lightens up at the proposition. “Just a week?” 

“Two weeks.” 

“Make it a month.” 

“Ew,” Chelsea shivers. “Would you actually go, then?” 

Cassandra sighs. “You'll definitely do it? You won’t clean it for like a day and then just stop? 

Chelsea nods furiously. “I’ll actually do it. Promise.” She holds out her pinky finger. 

Cassandra groans. “Ugh, fine, Chels.” She hooks her pinky with Chelsea’s, sealing the deal. 

Cassandra walks back to the living room, finding Bobby staring at the ceiling. She furrows her eyebrows at him. 

“Hey,” she says. 

Bobby looks up at her and grins. “Alright?” 

“Gimmie a sec, okay? I'm just gonna grab my coat and stuff,” she says. 

Bobby smiles and nods, then she runs back upstairs. 

\--- 

“Who are you?” a deep voice echoes from behind Bobby, startling him. 

Bobby turns around to face Chelsea and Cassandra’s father. “Hello, sir,” he clambers out of his seat. “I'm Bobby McKenzie. I also go to the Villa.” He extends a hand. 

Their dad stares at Bobby's hand, but makes no move to shake it. “I thought I told Chelsea not to bring any boys home.” He crosses his arms. 

Bobby runs his hand through his dreads, casually pretending his handshake wasn't just rejected. “I'm not here for Chelsea, sir, I'm here for Cassandra.” 

“Oh,” he huffs, not expecting that answer. “Fine. Don't be late,” he grumbles. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Oh, and Bobby?” 

“Sir?” 

"I have many kitchen knives and scalpels," he says, narrowing his eyes, "And a medical degree. Don't fuck with my daughter." 

Bobby glances down, swallowing the lump that's formed in his throat. “I-I’ll bring Cassandra back home safely. And in time.” 

He purses his lips while their dad slowly leaves the room. When the sound of a door shuts, Bobby’s filled with relief as all the tension leaves his body. At least the hard part is over. 

\--- 

“I'll drive,” Bobby says when he walks with Cassandra to her car. 

“What? Why? It's my car.” 

“Yeah, but I can be the designated driver so you could actually drink and enjoy the party. I mean, if you want.” 

Cassandra blinks at him for a moment. No one really considers her like that. “Oh. Okay. That works, I guess. But I'm not sure if I'll drink.” 

“I wanna get accustomed to driving your car, though. Just in case.” 

“Alright,” she shrugs. “Knock yourself out.” She tosses him the keys and makes her way to the passenger side. 

To her surprise, Bobby runs over there as well. 

“Uh, I thought you wanted to drive? In case you haven’t heard, that’s on the other side of the car,” she raises an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, but I wanted to do this,” Bobby says as he opens the passenger door. 

“Oh. Cheesy,” she rolls her eyes. “But thanks,” she adds quickly before climbing inside. 

“It’s my brand,” he winks, and closes the door before going to the driver's seat. 

He starts the engine, and Deftones plays in the background, continuing from when Cassandra last used the car. 

When Bobby drives off, Cassandra manages to catch Chelsea getting into Blake’s car from the side view mirror. She all but scoffs at them. She’s got a bad feeling about Blake, but she can’t quite place it. 

“I can’t believe I’m going to this party,” she says, shaking her head. 

“Me too, but I’m glad you decided to come.” 

She doesn’t say anything back. 

“I have a question. It’s a serious question,” Bobby says, after a short while. 

Cassandra glances over at him. “Yes?” 

“Why a minivan?” He asks. “I didn't know playing soccer automatically made you a soccer mom,” he chuckles. 

She scoffs. “Shut up. It's kind of a long story.” 

“We have some time before we get to Tim's,” he says, quickly eyeing her before turning back to the road. 

“I don't know if you caught it, but Lucas said something absolutely disgusting.” 

He nods slowly. “Yeah, I heard it.” 

“It pissed me off.” 

“As it should.” 

“So I, uh, might’ve trashed his car.” 

Bobby snickers. “Iconic.” 

“Yeah, so my dad found out and took away my bike.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Yeah,” she laughs softly. “If it weren’t for school, I don’t think he would’ve given me the minivan. I would’ve had to walk everywhere.” 

“My dad would've made me walk either way,” he says. 

Cassandra huffed a short laugh. 

“If you ask me, I think it was worth it,” Bobby says, quickly glancing over at her. “He's a prick.” 

“Tell me about it.” 

They turn onto one of the residential areas, and they immediately hear the deep rumbling of a bass from a house on the corner of the street. As they drive closer, they can just make out colorful strobe lights illuminating the dark street. 

Bobby slows to a stop at an empty spot. “We're here.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was mostly just filler lmao but thank u for reading anyways !! <3


	7. i hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HIII i’m sorry i took a while ! i wanted this chapter to be perfect, since it’s an important one ! 
> 
> also, if you have an aversion to vomiting, then please consider this a trigger warning. it’s not described in detail, but it’s still mentioned, so please keep this in mind before continuing if this is something that would negatively affect you. thank you! xx

“Your mission is to find Chelsea and woo her,” Noah says as he and Henrik enter Tim’s house. 

“When has it been literally anything else?” Henrik says, elbowing his way past yet another group of people. How can the whole school fit in this one house? 

“I’m here on business, so my phone will be on at all times,” Noah says, ignoring his quip. 

“Do you ever take a day off?” 

“No.” 

“Oh.” 

“Hey, Noah!” Some girl calls out. 

Noah greets her back before turning to Henrik. “Duty calls. Text me if you need me.” 

“Wait, but—” 

And he’s gone. 

Henrik sighs, wandering about until he finds the drinks table in the kitchen. The cherry red liquid is suspicious, and he has a bad feeling about it, but he could definitely use a little extra… courage. 

He grabs the ladle lying in one of the bowls, cringing to himself as the sticky handle clings to his skin. He grabs a spoonful of the jungle juice, pours it into a red solo cup he can only hope is clean, and slowly takes a sip. 

His eyes dart around the room, hoping to find a familiar face—preferably one person in particular—but he doesn’t recognize anyone. And he really doesn’t wanna socialize with these strangers. 

After what seems like hours of just standing around, the crowds of people seem to shift towards the door. Henrik moves towards the commotion, wondering what’s so important that it’s managed to distract a house full of kids. 

Then he sees her. 

Though a small crowd has formed around her, Chelsea seems thoroughly uninterested in anything they have to say. She glances around, seeming to look for something—or maybe, someone? 

Maybe himself? 

He shakes the thought away. 

Probably not. 

Unless? 

He droops as she disappears into the crowd. 

It wouldn’t hurt to talk to her, especially since she said she’d definitely see him at the party. That has to mean something… right? 

Taking a deep breath and downing a huge gulp of liquid courage, he pushes past the crowd and strides over to Chelsea and Blake, who have stopped to talk to a little ginger girl. He thinks her name is Hannah? 

Hannah, or whatever her name is, sees him when he approaches, and she quickly makes up an excuse to leave. Blake scowls. 

“Hey, Chelsea! Glad you could make it,” Henrik says, smiling brightly at her. 

Blake rolls her eyes. Henrik pretends not to see it, and gives her a friendly nod. 

“Oh, hi, Henrik!” Chelsea says. She keeps looking around the room. 

“Could I get you a drink?” 

She hesitates. “Um, no, it’s okay, I can get my own. But you could get Blake one!” She pushes Blake towards him, while Blake loses her balance. “I’m sure you’ll like her!” 

“But—” 

Chelsea seems to find what she’s looking for over Henrik’s shoulders and beelines towards it. When he turns around, he sees Lucas heading in this direction, and Chelsea running up to him. 

Henrik’s whole body sags as he watches Chelsea talking excitedly to Lucas. 

Maybe it really _was_ too good to be true. 

He turns back to Blake, not wanting to be rude. “So. Um. Hi. Nice to meet you,” he smiles kindly. 

Blake simply groans and stomps away. 

Henrik sighs, dragging himself over to the nearest chair, and slumping in it. 

She used him, didn’t she? She let him form this stupid “plan” so she’d be allowed to date, but she so conveniently omitted the part where she wouldn’t date _him_ , she’d date Lucas. 

He brings the cold plastic cup to his lips and takes a long sip. He leans his head back on the wall behind him, carelessly letting his head spin. 

How could he be so naive? 

\--- 

“This is disgusting,” Cassandra grimaces as she enters Tim's house. 

It’s so full of people, it's like they're spilling out from the doors and windows. It's already humid and warm and smelling like booze. 

“What did you expect? Rainbows and unicorns?” Bobby says, trailing behind her. 

“No, but I didn't expect it to be this... gross.” She motions to the liquid-stained couch she only hopes is water. 

Bobby chuckles. “Could be worse.” 

Cassandra treks deeper into the house, eyeing both familiar and unfamiliar faces. 

Her shoes stick to the wooden floors with every step, and every inch the house is decorated with scattered red solo cups. 

After moving around people and stumbling about, she eventually finds the kitchen. 

She turns around for a moment to look at Bobby, but he's already gone. Weird. _Oh well,_ she shrugs. 

Turning back to the kitchen, she notices Lucas there, of all people. Ugh. It _cannot_ get any worse. 

He's leaning on the counter with an elbow and nursing a drink with the other arm, casually talking to Rahim. Like clockwork, her face creases into a scowl, and her fists clench beside her. 

The sight of him leaves a bad taste in her mouth. She knew there was a good chance he'd come, but she didn't think she'd see him right away. 

Heading back towards the door, she notices the wide array of bottles and bowls, all haphazardly filled with bright red liquid. _Maybe it wouldn't hurt to have a little something to drink._

She quickly fills a cup with the first bottle she finds, then takes a huge gulp, hoping to wash away the disgusting taste. She moves to leave the room, but— 

“Cassie!” 

Cassandra freezes in her tracks, slowly turning around. “Stop calling me that.” 

“Aw, come on, don't be like that,” he says, sauntering over to her. “Your sister here?” 

“Leave my sister alone,” she sneers at him, though he doesn't seem to notice or care. 

“Why would I do that?” He smirks, looking behind her. “Oh, there she is!” he says, walking to Chelsea. 

Oh, no. She can’t let him get to her. 

Cassandra runs up to Chelsea. “Chelsea, I—” 

Unfortunately, she's a little too late; Lucas sidles up to Chelsea, snaking an arm around her waist. “Hey, Chelsea,” he smirks, leading her away. 

Chelsea shoots Cassandra a look as she walks away, as if to say ‘don’t bother me.’ 

Shit. Now it _definitely_ can't get any worse. She takes another swig of her drink and stalks off in the opposite direction. 

\--- 

“Hey, Chelsea,” Lucas smirks, leading her away from Cassandra. 

Chelsea shoots Cassandra a look, begging her not to ruin this for her. 

She’s finally hanging out with Lucas! She’s been dreaming about this for the past year, and now it’s come true! If this is actually a dream, she doesn’t wanna wake up. At all. 

“Glad you could make it,” he says, when they’ve reached a quieter part of the house. 

“It took a while convincing Cassie to go because daddy wouldn’t let me go otherwise, but I’m so glad she came because I got to see you!” 

“Me too,” he says, leaning on the nearest wall. “So, let’s talk about more important things.” 

“Like?” Chelsea steps forward, closing in on the space between them. 

“Like how I got into Oxford on early admission, _with_ a full scholarship,” Lucas says with a smug smile. 

“Oh,” Chelsea nods eagerly, “That’s amazing. I think I—” 

“Yeah, I mean, it's not surprising with my perfect GPA and all my extra-curricular activities, but it's still something I'm proud of.” 

Chelsea purses her lips. 

“So I'll be moving to Oxford next year. 

“That's cool, I—” 

“I’m gonna be a doctor, like my parents.” 

Chelsea doesn't even try to properly respond anymore, she just nods accordingly as he talks 

“Although, therapy does sound pretty intriguing…” 

The rest of Lucas’s rambling is lost to her. She tries her hardest to look impressed, but it’s become increasingly difficult as the conversation goes on. 

She grimaces slightly. Is this really the kind of person she wants to be with? She can’t even get a word in. And why is he talking about college at a party? They're supposed to, like, talk and flirt, maybe even kiss? But no. He’s not going to sweep her off her feet anytime soon. 

_Oh my god_ , she thinks, _This isn’t a dream, this is a nightmare._

“I’ll be right back,” Chelsea says, scurrying away. 

Luckily, she quickly finds Blake and drags her to the bathroom, slamming the door shut. 

Chelsea sighs a breath of relief. “Blake, he’s _so_ not how I thought he’d be.” 

“What do you mean? He’s hot, he’s smart, what else do you want?” Blake raises an eyebrow as she folds her arms. 

“I dunno,” Chelsea frowns. “I mean, I thought he’d be more of a gentleman. He won’t let me talk at all, and he won’t shut up about Oxford. I mean, sure, it’s impressive, but it isn’t exactly party talk. And I can't even get a word in!” 

“He’s set for life, though, isn’t that a good thing?” 

Chelsea shrugs. “I dunno…” she stares at the tiled floor. “Sometimes I wonder if the guys we're supposed to want to go out with are the ones we actually want to go out with, you know?” she says, tapping her nails against the marble sink. 

“Well,” Blake says, placing a hand on her hip, “ _I’d_ definitely go out with Lucas if given the chance.” 

Suddenly, the door bursts open, and Chelsea and Blake flinch at the sound. They turn to the door and find a very disheveled Cassandra. Her face is completely flushed and her eyes are half-lidded. 

“Chelsea!” she slurs. “There you are!” 

Chelsea stares blankly at her sister; seeing her in an inebriated state is such a rarity, she needs a moment to process it. 

“Listen, I have to tell you— _hic_ —something! I have to tell you about—” Cassandra starts. 

“I don’t think you’re in a position to give me any social advice,” Chelsea says, shaking her head, “Drunk or not.” She grabs Blake and leaves Cassandra behind. 

\--- 

Bobby circles the whole house before he finds Cassandra again. She’s in the kitchen by the drinks table (again) and she's trying to pour some jungle juice into her cup, but the ladle completely misses. She tries again and it works, miraculously. 

“What are you doing?” He says, gently placing a hand on her back. 

“I'm doing what you're ‘supposed to do’ at parties. Getting drunk,” she says, downing her drink. 

Well, sort of. Most of the liquid misses her mouth and dribbles down the sides of her face and neck. She stumbles as she tries to grab a shot glass. 

Bobby raises an eyebrow. “Um, how many of those have you had?” 

Cassandra shrugs and walks away from him, tripping over herself and spilling her drink in the process. 

“You should stop,” Bobby says, balancing her by the shoulders. “You can't even walk.” 

She shrugs his hand off, frowning. “Don't tell me what to do,” she spits. She walks away again and grabs another shot glass on the way down the hall. 

At least she's still being herself. 

Bobby sighs. He moves to follow her, but a hand clasps his shoulder. 

“What the—” Bobby starts, cutting himself off when he sees Lucas. “Oh. It’s about time.” 

“A deal’s a deal, McKenzie,” Lucas pulls out his wallet and sifts through the bills. “For your next date,” he hands over $75 in extraordinarily crisp bills. 

“Thanks,” Bobby says, quickly shoving the notes into his pockets. 

“I gotta know, though, how’d you do it?” Lucas grins. 

Bobby’s brows furrow. “What?” 

“Get her to act like a human,” Lucas says, pointing behind Bobby. 

She’s somehow climbed the kitchen island, gracelessly dancing to the upbeat music. A small crowd forms around her, egging her on as her movements become more erratic. 

She makes one wrong move, though, then she hits her head on one of the hanging pots with an alarming _bang!_

Bobby winces at the sound. 

She sways then falls. 

Bobby shoves the crowd aside and tries to catch her. Her upper body lands on his chest, and he grunts at the impact. He quickly helps get her back on her feet, but she still sways. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, though he knows the answer. 

“I’m fine,” she says, stumbling as she tries to stand still. 

“You’re not fine.” 

“I’m _fine_ ,” she says, clumsily rubbing her head. “I just need to lie down for a while.” 

“If you lie down, you’ll fall asleep, and that’s bad if you got a concussion or something.” 

“Okay, I’ll just sleep, but stay awake, okay?” She tries to sit on the floor, but Bobby grabs her elbow, keeping her still. 

“Come on, let’s go for a walk.” 

They make their way to the front of the house—well, Cassandra’s stumbling over herself, and Bobby stays close, steadying her whenever she needs it. Even in her drunken state, she still manages to push off any assistance he gives. 

They’re almost out of the house when Bobby’s tapped on the back. He turns to find Henrik, who seems to droop around his drink. 

“Henrik, I'm kinda busy right now.” He looks back at Cassandra. She’s leaning against the wall, sliding down as she can’t support her own weight anymore. Her eyes blink closed as she nods off. Shit. 

“The plan’s off, bro,” Henrik says, shaking his head. 

“What?” He glances back at Cassandra. 

“She doesn't like me. She likes Lucas.” 

Bobby sighs as he reluctantly focuses all of his attention on Henrik. “Is she worth it?” 

Henrik furrows his brows. “Huh?” 

“Is she _worth it_?” Bobby repeats with conviction. 

“Um. I don't know. I—“ 

“Mate. Either she is, or she isn't,” he glances at Cassandra. 

“Yeah,” Henrik nods, “Yeah, I guess she is.” 

Bobby clasps his hands on Henrik's shoulders. “Then go get her!” 

“But I don't stand a chance, I—” 

“Lucas isn't half the man you are.” 

Henrik blinks, staring blankly at him. 

“You’re funny, you’re kind, you genuinely care about people. Lucas doesn’t give a shit about anyone other than himself,” Bobby all but rolls his eyes. 

Henrik's eyes brighten up, and he stands just a little taller. “You really think so?” 

“Yes, Henrik.” 

“Is this the part where we kiss?” 

“Shut it,” Bobby punches him on the shoulder, grinning as Henrik snickers. “Go get the girl, mate,” he says, patting Henrik's back. 

Without waiting for an answer, Bobby slings Cassandra’s arm around his neck and supports her outside. 

\--- 

“This is so patronizing,” Cassandra says, shoving Bobby aside when she comes to. It seems as though the crisp night air woke her up a bit. 

“Leave it to you to use big words while you’re drunk,” he chuckles. 

“Why are you doing this?” she narrows her eyes at him, then stumbles before picking herself back up. 

“I told you,” he stretches out his arm in case she topples over again. 

“You don’t care if I die.” 

“Of course I do.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I’d actually have to take out girls who like me,” he winks. 

“Like you could find any.” 

“See?” he chuckles, “Who needs affection when I’ve got blind hatred?” 

“Just let me sit down,” she grumbles. 

Bobby helps her sit on the bottom off a slide. Cassandra’s eyes immediately shut. 

“Hey. Hey. Wake up,” Bobby says, crouching over so their faces are leveled. 

She groans as her eyes flutter open. She winces at the bright streetlight, then squeezes her eyes shut. 

“No no no,” Bobby gently taps her face, “You've gotta keep your eyes open.” 

She groans again and turns her head away from him. 

“You hit your head,” he says, tapping her again. “You can't go to sleep.” 

“Ugh, fine, just stop talking so loudly,” she says, trying to get up. Her arms wobble under her weight and she collapses back onto the slide. 

He chuckles softly. “Alright, I'll whisper,” he says, lowering his voice. “Is that better?” 

“No.” 

He chuckles again. “Seriously, we've gotta keep you awake.” 

She sighs, rubbing her head. “Alright.” To his surprise, she actually does keep her eyes open, though she seems to be struggling. 

“So,” Bobby says, sitting on the grass in front of her. “Why do you let him get to you?” 

“Who?” 

“Lucas.” 

“I hate him.” 

“I know. It'd have to be a pretty big deal to get you to mainline tequila. You don't seem like the type.” 

“What, you don’t think I can be ‘cool,’ like all the other kids?” 

“I didn’t think you cared about that stuff,” he looks away. 

“Well, you know…” she trails off. 

“What?” He looks up at her and she’s fallen asleep, leaning on the side of the slide. 

Bobby jumps to his feet. “No no no, wake up.” 

Nothing. 

He taps on her cheek, “Hey. Wake up. Wake up!” 

She doesn’t budge. 

“Shit.” He grabs her shoulders and shakes her like a ragdoll. “Cassandra! Wake up!” 

She blinks her eyes open. “What? You’re so loud,” she grimaces. 

Bobby sighs with relief. “Oh, thank god.” His arms are still clasped around her shoulders. “I thought you were…” he trails off. 

“Hey…” she starts. 

He cocks an eyebrow. 

“Your eyes have a little gold in them.” 

A rush of heat fills his cheeks as he stares back into her wide brown eyes. 

She suddenly gasps, bringing her hand to her mouth, and cutting through their little moment. She whips her head over the slide and retches as the contents of tonight make their way back out onto the grass. 

Bobby scoops up her hair and brushes away all the loose tendrils with one hand, rubbing her back with the other hand. 

\--- 

“Hey, Chelsea!” Lucas calls. 

Oh no. 

Chelsea freezes. She's just gotten rid of him, too! She's so, so fed up with him, she absolutely cannot spend more time with him. 

She just wants to go home. This stupid party was a bust. 

And now she has to clean the bathroom for a month. She shivers at the thought. 

“There's an after party at my place. Wanna come?” Lucas says when he approaches them. 

“As much as I want to,” Chelsea says, “I am really tired.” She forces out an exaggerated yawn. “And my curfew is in 30 minutes.” 

“Oh, I'll come!” Blake says, clinging onto Lucas’s arm. “My curfew isn’t until 2am.” 

Chelsea's jaw drops open. 

_What?!_

Blake knows she's been crushing on Lucas for the past year. What the hell?! 

“See, your friend is down,” Lucas grins. 

“Seriously, Blake?” Chelsea's brows furrow as she gives Blake an incredulous look. 

Blake shrugs, then smirks as she eyes Lucas adoringly. He doesn't seem to notice, or care. 

Ugh! How rude! They came to the party together, so they're supposed to leave together! 

“How am I supposed to get home?” Chelsea frowns. 

“You'll figure it out,” Blake says, with another shrug. 

Chelsea just stands there, stunned. 

“Last chance,” Lucas says, oblivious to their conversation. 

“No, I'm okay,” Chelsea says with finality. 

Before Chelsea even finishes her sentence, Lucas and Blake are already walking off together, arm-in-arm. 

“You two deserve each other,” she mutters as she walks out of the house. 

Chelsea stands in front of the house, trying to remember the direction she and Blake came from. 

Oh! She can check her phone! 

The maps app tells her she'll be home in two hours if she walks. 

_Oh._

Chelsea sighs, heading in the direction of home, with her dying phone in hand. Definitely not how the night was supposed to go. 

She's barely walked a few feet when she sees a familiar mess of long blonde hair walking in the same direction. 

It's Henrik! 

“Henrik!” she calls, walking a little faster to catch up to him. 

\--- 

“Noah,” Henrik says, getting his attention. 

“Yeah? Hold on—” Noah turns back to the guy he was talking to. “Take my card, and I’ll help you out,” Noah hands over his business card, then turns back to Henrik. “Alright, what happened?” 

“I’m an idiot.” 

“I know, but elaborate,” Noah says, raising an eyebrow. 

“She’s got a thing for Lucas, not me. I can’t believe I thought I had a chance.” 

Noah smiles sadly at him. “I don’t think it’s over yet.” 

“Well, for now, it is. I’m going home.” There’s no real reason for him to stay anymore. 

“I still have a few people I need to talk to, so I’ll leave later. Get home safe, okay?” 

“I will. ‘Night.” 

“Goodnight,” Noah says, walking towards yet another person. 

Henrik drags one foot over the other as he makes his way out of Tim’s house. 

“Henrik!” 

He whips his head around at the sound of his name, only to see Chelsea. 

Is she here to rub it in his face? He turns around and keeps walking. Bobby told him to go “get the girl,” but… how? He feels like he’s already lost. 

“Henrik!” she says, with much more desperation. 

Sighing, he turns around. “Yes, Chelsea?” 

“Could you, um…” She glances down, “Could you give me a ride home? Please?” 

Though she's deeply hurt him tonight, he can't, in good faith, just leave her like this. Perhaps he's being too nice, but it doesn't feel right not to help her. 

He nods, and motions for her to come with him. 

She runs up to him and thanks him, but he doesn't respond. 

\--- 

The car ride is silent, uncharacteristically so, with Chelsea present. The tension inside Henrik’s little car thickens so much, he cracks some of the windows in an effort to relieve it. 

It doesn't work. 

He turns into her street and slows to a stop in front of her house. 

“Um, thank you,” Chelsea mumbles. “I—” 

Maybe it's the booze, maybe he's just tired of all the effort he’s put into making this convoluted plan work, but he can't help the outburst that topples out of him. 

“You never wanted to go climbing, did you?” he asks, not even sparing her a glance. Perhaps it comes out a little more aggressively than he intended, but he means it all the same. 

Chelsea juts out her lower lip and looks down. “No…” 

“Then, that was all you needed to say!” 

“But—” 

“I did all this crap just because you said that you'd go out with me. You could've just said you didn't want to! I would've left you alone! I don't—” he cuts himself off with a groan, his hands tightly gripping the steering wheel. “Have you always been this selfish?” Henrik's words tumble out of his mouth faster than he could stop them. 

Chelsea flinches. 

There's a long pause. It's like she's not even going to answer. 

Henrik opens his mouth to say something, but— 

“Yes,” she finally says. 

He whips his head to the side to look at her. 

_At least she's honest._

“You know,” he says, running his hands over his face, “Just because you're beautiful doesn't mean you could treat people however you want. I mean, I—” 

“You think I'm beautiful?” she says, meeting his eyes for the first time during the whole car ride. 

“What? Of _course_ I do,” he says, wavering slightly. “But that's not the point,” he shakes his head. “I—” 

Chelsea suddenly leans over the armrest, grabs his face, and crashes her lips onto his. Henrik's words get lost in her mouth and his eyes widen. 

This isn't happening right now. 

Their teeth click and their noses smush against each other, but it's enough for Henrik to forget whatever the hell he was saying. 

It's… weird? And kind of awkward. Not that he's complaining, though. He's actually kissing a girl! Chelsea, of all people. 

Wait. He's kissing _Chelsea_. 

Well, not really. He suddenly realizes he’s just sitting there like a dead fish. 

_Kiss her back, you idiot!_

Henrik’s eyes flutter closed as he moves his lips against hers. Her lips are soft and plump, they feel just like he imagined they would. Not that he imagines kissing her in his free time. 

It’s over as quickly as it begins, and Chelsea pulls away. 

“Goodnight, Henrik,” she smiles, getting out of the car. 

He stares at her back, dumbfounded, until she goes inside. 

She kissed him. 

He kissed her back! 

What is going on? What about Lucas? Oh my god, does he actually have a chance now? Was Bobby right the whole time? Is this all a dream? How much did he even drink? 

Henrik sits back as his mind reels with all these questions. He's not sure what any of this means, really, but at least he’s got a chance now. He starts up the car, grinning to himself during the whole ride home. 

\--- 

After Cassandra hurled on the grass (and a little on Bobby’s shoes), he helped her inside and got her a bottle of water as she rinsed her mouth with mouthwash she found in the bathroom. She happily chugged the bottle before leaving the party. 

Now, Bobby and Cassandra are settled in the minivan once again. 

Deftones plays in the background when Bobby turns the ignition, reminiscent of the ride to the party. It feels like so long ago, though it’s only been hours. 

“I should do this.” 

“What?” 

“This,” she says, motioning to the radio. 

“Start a band?” 

“Yeah, but my father ‘wouldn’t approve,’” she rolls her eyes. 

“You don’t seem like the type to ask for permission.” 

“Oh, so you think you know me now?” 

“I’m getting there,” he smirks. 

She pauses for a moment. 

“The only thing that people know about me is that I’m ‘scary,’” she finally says, her voice lowering to almost a whisper. 

He rolls to a stop at a traffic light, taking the opportunity to look at her. Her brown eyes flicker with thought as she stares into the distance, her full lips pursed in thought. He tries to hide his smile. 

“Yeah, well, I’m no picnic myself,” he says, looking back at the road as the light turns green. 

Perhaps they have more in common than they thought. 

Eventually, Bobby pulls into the driveway of her house. 

“Thanks for driving me, and… you know, stuff,” Cassandra mutters. 

“Of course,” he says, turning to her. He looks up at the house, where all of the lights are still on. “So, what’s up with your dad?” 

“He wants me to be someone I’m not.” 

“Who?” 

“Chelsea.” 

Bobby scoffs. “No offense, I know everyone likes her and all that, but your sister is without.” 

Cassandra pauses, staring at him. “You know, you’re not as vile as I thought you were.” 

She drunkenly leans towards him as he instinctively leans towards her, closing in on the little space between them. But when his mind realizes what’s about to happen, he pulls back, quickly turning his head away. 

Bobby clears his throat. “So, I’ll see you at school?” 

Cassandra glares at him before stomping out of the car, slamming the door shut. 

And she's back. 

He’s going to feel her wrath on Monday. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI AGAIN okay so i’m lowkey soft b/c i’m officially halfway done with the fic lol, this is my first full length fic and i surprised myself seeing it through this far, and i’m excited to see it to the end. thank you so, so much for reading, i genuinely appreciate all of you. <3
> 
> and also i’m sorry i take forever to answer comments, i usually just forget JASKDJASLDKJF. i’ve answered the ones from the previous chapter but i felt like it was too late for the comments left in earlier chapters… lmao. i’ll try to do better tho ! 
> 
> thank you to esme for helping me come up with ideas and talking through them with me. thank you to emily who always gives me such good feedback on my drafts. and a special shout out to da cc. LOVE YOU GUYS !!!!! <3


	8. i hate it, i hate the way you're always right

When Cassandra walks into Mr. Jasper’s English class the following Monday morning, the majority of the class is already there. The usual. 

What’s so peculiar about this day, though, is that the kids don't fall quiet when they see her. Quite the opposite, actually. Cheers erupt from the classroom, a stark contrast from the ominous quiet she’s grown so used to hearing. She's stunned into silence as people who have never spoken to her, or who have never spared her a glance, now eagerly turn to her. 

“Yo, what's up, Cassie!” 

“Nice moves!” 

“You sway to the rhythm of my heart!” 

_Oh no._

Memories of Saturday night come back to her, and she cringes as she walks to the back of the classroom. 

The excited chatter continues, and people try their best to include her, but she doesn't participate. They’ve never given her the time of day before, and now they are acting like they’re her best friends? She’s nothing if not skeptical—do they have an ulterior motive? 

She shakes away those thoughts and settles in her seat. 

Bobby looks back to smile at her, but she simply sneers at him. His eyes widen at her reaction and he quickly turns back around. 

_Good,_ she scoffs quietly to herself. 

A few minutes later, Jasper walks in, but no one in the class seems to notice. 

“Settle down,” he says, putting on his most commanding voice, though his casual overall demeanor isn’t so convincing. 

The classroom takes a few minutes to quiet down, then Jasper clears his throat. 

“Sounds like everyone had a good weekend,” he says. 

“Why don't you ask Cassandra?” Lucas says, snickering. 

“I would if I actually cared,” Jasper says, opening up a file folder overstuffed with papers. “Let's get on with class.” He hands out the contents of the folder. “We’re reading Sonnet 141 by William Shakespeare today.” 

The class collectively groans. 

Ignoring the universal objection, he asks for volunteers to read. Unsurprisingly, Hannah's petite, freckled hand shoots up in the air. With her shrill voice, she reads the handout: 

_In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes,_

_For they in thee a thousand errors note;_

_But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise,_

_Who in despite of view is pleased to dote;_

Jasper puts up a hand to stop Hannah. “Can anyone tell me what this means so far?” 

The class sits there in an awkward silence, most of them avoiding eye contact with him. 

“Alright… Not everyone at once.” 

Silence. 

Jasper purses his lips. “Tough crowd.” 

“Wouldn't be if he was actually funny,” Bobby whispers loudly for people near him to hear, but not enough for Jasper to hear. They snicker. Even Cassandra cracks a smile, but she quickly wipes it off. 

“If you have something to say, Bobby, say it to the whole class.” 

Bobby clears his throat. “Erm, no, thanks.” 

“Alright. Then tell me what this sonnet means.” 

“I dunno. Some shit about love,” he shrugs. 

“Insightful,” Jasper deadpans. 

“Actually,” Lucas speaks up, “The writer is confessing their love. They love the person despite their looks and all of their flaws.” He quickly looks at Cassandra. 

“That's correct, Lucas. The writer loves his muse so much, despite her abhorrent exterior.” 

He cranes his head around from his seat at the front. “Looks like you might not die alone after all, Cassie,” he smirks. 

Cassandra sneers. “No, but you will.” 

Bobby bursts out laughing. The rest of the class turns to look at him, questioning him silently. “Oh, sorry, it’s just funny,” he says, wiping a fake tear from his eye, “You sound like you actually know her.” 

“Like _you_ do?” Lucas quips. 

That shut Bobby up. 

“Thought so,” Lucas’s smug smile returns. 

“Alright, settle down,” Jasper’s voice cuts through the tension. “Back to the main point. There are certainly lovable qualities even in the most horrendous of people. Sometimes you just have to dig,” he says. “In certain cases...,” he looks directly at Lucas, “Very deep.” 

Lucas rolls his eyes and slumps in his seat. 

“Please continue, Hannah,” Jasper says. 

_Nor are mine ears with thy tongue's tune delighted,_

_Nor tender feeling, to base touches prone,_

_Nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invited_

_To any sensual feast with thee alone:_

“Now what does this part mean?” Jasper says. 

Another awkward silence. 

“Alright… Cassandra, please tell me.” 

The whole class looks at her, and she shifts in her seat. 

“Well…” she looks down at the paper again. “The writer talks about just _how_ repugnant she is by describing her effect on each of his five senses. Then he outright says that he wouldn’t wanna spend time with her because of her repulsiveness.” 

“That’s perfect,” Jasper says. “Well said.” 

“She would know,” Lucas says. 

Jasper rolls his eyes and signals for Hannah to continue. 

_But my five wits nor my five senses can_

_Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee,_

_Who leaves unsway'd the likeness of a man,_

_Thy proud hearts slave and vassal wretch to be:_

“And this part?” Jasper scans the now quiet classroom. “Anyone?” 

“Even though he is pretty much disgusted by her, he can’t help but to love her anyway,” Yael says. 

Bobby steals a glance at Cassandra, but she doesn’t notice. 

“Good,” Jasper nods. “Hannah?” 

She continues: 

_Only my plague thus far I count my gain,_

_That she that makes me sin awards me pain._

“What does this end couplet mean?” 

The class falls still once more. 

“Alright, well…” Jasper says, “The only good thing about this love is that she brings him pain. It’s a punishment he believes he deserves for loving her to begin with.” 

The classroom fills with soft murmurs. 

“Good job, everyone,” Jasper says. “Now that you all know what this sonnet means, your final assignment for this class will be to rewrite it in your own words.” 

And another collective groan ensues. 

\--- 

After class, Cassandra finds Priya by her locker. 

“You mean you _actually_ went to the party?” Priya says, grinning in disbelief. 

Cassandra sighs. “So you already heard?” 

Priya nods eagerly and waits for her to continue. 

“Yeah, I went. I didn't have a choice,” she grumbles as she opens her locker. 

“You ‘didn't have a choice’?! Who are you and what have you done with Cassie?” 

“I only went for Chelsea. As a favor. It backfired,” she rolls her eyes. 

“You didn't.” 

Cassandra nods. “I got drunk, I puked, I got rejected. It was fun,” she says, sarcasm dripping with every word. 

“By who?!” Priya practically yells. 

Bobby sidles up to them before Cassandra can answer. 

“Hey,” he grins, leaning on the lockers. 

She scowls at him, slams her locker shut, and stomps away. 

\--- 

Bobby looks at Priya, silently begging for answers, but she just shrugs before catching up to her best friend. 

Having witnessed the whole scene, Henrik and Noah walk up to him. 

“Well, there goes the plan,” Noah says, clicking his tongue. 

“We had a plan?” Henrik says. 

Bobby groans, running his hands over his face. 

\--- 

Priya catches up with Cassandra a few minutes later. “So it was Bobby, huh?” 

“Ugh,” she rolls her eyes. 

Priya giggles as they walk out of school together. “I've never seen you so bothered.” 

“I am _not_ bothered!” Cassandra says. She doesn't notice the curb coming up, and she loses her balance. Before anyone else could notice, she scrambles to catch herself before hitting the pavement. 

“You're falling for him already.” 

“Shut up.” 

\--- 

During P.E., Chelsea is sitting on the bleachers, absentmindedly tapping her feet as she watches the rest of the class run laps. 

Though this sight isn't unusual, what _is_ unusual is Blake's absence. Ever since they've known each other, they've essentially been joined at the hip. Now one’s without the other and it's nothing short of strange. 

Blake’s been there for Chelsea no matter what, but what happened at the party painted her in a new light. If Blake liked Lucas too, why didn't she say anything? Chelsea would've backed off in a heartbeat; they're best friends. Or so, she thought. The party's got her thinking, though. Were they _ever_ really best friends? 

“Hey, Chels.” Lucas's voice cuts through Chelsea's thoughts. 

“Oh,” Chelsea forces a smile, “Hey, Lucas.” 

Whatever she used to see in him falls away with every step he takes towards her. It takes almost all her willpower not to grimace at him. 

_Please go away…_

“So,” Lucas casually drapes a leg over one of the bleachers, “Prom?” 

Chelsea blinks. _Prom?!_

She would've jumped at the opportunity a few days ago, but now? Now she doesn't want to spend any more time with him that she needs to. 

The only person she'd wanna go to prom with is— 

“What do you say? You wear blue, I pick you up. It'll be fun.” 

“Um, well, you know I can't go unless Cassie goes, so…” Chelsea says, looking away. 

“Don't worry. She'll be there.” 

“I'll have to talk to her about it.” 

“I'll see you there, then,” he smirks, walking away. 

Chelsea breathes a sigh of relief when he leaves and rejoins the track field. 

If all goes well, she _definitely_ won't be seeing him. She giggles softly to herself. She never thought she'd think that about Lucas! 

How'd one party turn her world upside down? 

\--- 

After school, Henrik and Chelsea are at their usual table in the library for their tutoring session. 

“So, you’re supposed to pronounce it like this…” Henrik says, reading out some sentences, but they're all lost on Chelsea as other thoughts swirl in her mind. 

She eyes him. He’s… not bad looking. He’s not quite chiseled like Lucas, but he certainly has a certain rugged charm to him. He's actually kinda cute. 

Does that stuff even really matter? Henrik drove her home when no one else would. He didn't even question it. Would Lucas do the same? Probably not. At least, not unless there's something in it for him. 

Regardless, she examines the silky blonde locks that frame his long face— 

“What shampoo do you use?” the words fall out of her mouth without her realizing it. 

“Huh?” Henrik knots his brows. 

“You have really nice hair. What shampoo do you use?” 

“I-It’s Venueska.” 

“Oooh, I’ve heard of that brand! The creator, Kate, is—” 

“Sorry, Chels, but we need to stay focused,” Henrik gives her a sad smile. “We can talk about it later.” 

“Right, sorry, sometimes I get ahead of myself,” she giggles. 

Henrik continues. Chelsea tries very hard to listen, but she’s having such difficulty hearing him. 

He obviously likes her. He's been open about it from the start. 

She likes him now too, she's sure of it. She made it pretty obvious when she attacked him with her lips on Saturday night. 

Oh my gosh, was the kiss too much? Did she scare him off? 

It couldn't have. 

It _shouldn't_ have. 

He likes her. She likes him. So why isn't he doing anything about it? 

Lucas, as dense as he is, already asked her to prom before the school day even finished. He's not even who she wants to go with anymore! 

She doesn't wanna have to spell it out for him, but it might take another few months for him to make a move. What's a way to tell him without really _telling_ him? 

Ugh! 

_Whatever, sometimes you just have to do things yourself._

“Hey, Henrik?” Chelsea says. 

“Yes? Do you have any questions?” 

“Yes.” 

He pauses, waiting for her to continue. 

“When are you going to ask me out?” she says in perfect Swedish. 

He stares at her with wide eyes. 

She juts her lip out and frowns at his silence. 

He blinks. 

When he doesn't say anything for a while, she snatches her things and stalks out of the library. 

There's one thing Henrik knows for sure: Chelsea and Cassandra are _definitely_ related. 

\--- 

“So, how did the rest of your night go?” Noah asks, sitting down on the bleachers. He crosses his legs and eyes his friends. 

“Um, well,” Bobby jiggles his leg in his seat. “Not so good.” 

Henrik and Noah exchange a glance. 

“You do realize this puts the plan in jeopardy,” Noah says. 

“Yeah, I know.” 

“What happened?” Henrik asks. 

“Well,” Bobby sighs, leaning back. “I decided not to kiss her while she was drunk.” 

“You choose _now_ to grow a conscience?” Noah says, rolling his eyes. 

“Shut up.” 

“She can’t be that mad, can she?” Henrik says, resting his feet on the bleacher below him. 

“Um, no, mate, she’s mad,” Bobby says, leaning with his elbows on his knees. 

Just then, a soccer ball flies through the air, narrowly missing Bobby’s head and proving his point. 

“No, she’s _furious_ ,” Henrik says, pointing to a very seething Cassandra. 

“I’m sure there’s a way to fix it,” Noah says. 

“Maybe we should wait till tomorrow,” Bobby says. 

Another soccer ball whizzes past him, again missing Bobby's face by a fraction. 

They look over to the soccer field. Bobby smiles and waves at her, but she flips him off. 

“Okay, maybe a few days, then,” Bobby says. 

Henrik pats Bobby's back in silent consolation. “She's gonna rip you to shreds, bro.” 

Bobby sighs, leaning his head on his hands. “I know.” 

\--- 

And so, a few days pass. 

Despite the looming spring air that's formed around campus, Bobby has been feeling extra chilly lately. Cassandra has been giving him the cold shoulder. He's been letting it happen because he figures she'll cool down after some time, but the opposite happens. It's like she gets more and more angry with him as the days pass. 

With all the objects flying at his face (books, pens, one time it was some poor kid’s bag), it's a wonder he hasn't gotten hit yet. 

_Maybe she really does like him and she doesn't actually wanna hurt him_ , he thinks. 

He shakes his head. _Nah._

Bobby’s browsing the record store now, as he usually does before he heads to Esme’s, but his mind is elsewhere. 

As he goes up and down the aisles reading album titles and band names to himself, none of them register. 

None. 

At least, not until he gets to the Deftones section. 

_It's her favorite band,_ he thinks. He picks up one of the vinyls and reads the track list. He recognizes a few of the songs from the list Henrik gave him. 

He holds the record in his hands, contemplating whether he should buy it for her. 

_She'd love it._

Although, she might also love throwing it at him. 

Tentatively, Bobby places the record back in its spot and heads out of the shop. 

Maybe he'll get it for her another time. 

\--- 

Outside of the record shop, Bobby instantly spots a familiar green minivan and a mess of long, dark hair cascading down Cassandra’s back. 

Bobby jogs over before she climbs in. 

“I see you still have the minivan,” he knocks on the windshield. 

Cassandra doesn't bother turning to look at him. “Good to know your eyes still function. When will your brain follow?” 

Bobby chuckles. “Oh, come on, don't get your panties in a twist.” 

She whips her head around and scowls, holding a finger out. “Don't think for a second that you have had _any_ effect on my panties.” 

He throws his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright. Then, what did I have an effect on?” 

“Other than my upchuck reflex?” She steps a foot in the car, about to climb in when— 

Bobby holds the door open. “How can I make it up to you?” 

“By getting out of my face,” she says, climbing into the car and slamming the door behind her. Moments later, the clunky minivan speeds off, burning rubber as she hastily turns at the next light. 

Bobby sighs. 

At least she didn't throw anything at him this time. 

\--- 

Later on, Noah and Henrik open the door to Esme’s Bakery, ringing the little bell above the door. 

“Why are you guys here?” Bobby asks from behind the counter. 

“We need to discuss our plan going forward,” Noah says. “But for now I'd love an Earl Grey.” 

“Alright,” Bobby sighs, preparing the drink. 

Henrik orders a pastry as well, and he's about to pay when— 

“Don't worry,” Bobby says. “On the house.” 

“You _do_ care!” Henrik says. 

“Shut up,” Bobby says. “I've gotta keep working, though.” 

“No problem,” Noah says, “I've got some business to catch up on.” 

“Me too,” Henrik says. 

“I've got a break in an hour,” Bobby says. 

“Perfect.” 

\--- 

An hour later, Bobby joins them. He pulls up a chair and sits backwards on it. 

“So,” Bobby leans on his elbows, “What's the plan?” 

“Why don't you just say sorry?” Noah says, sipping his tea. 

Bobby raises an eyebrow as if to say ‘hell no.’ “I don't think she's the ‘forgive and forget’ type,” he says. 

“Unless you want something thrown at you again,” Henrik snickers. 

“I don't really know what to do now,” Bobby sighs. 

“You embarrassed her, bro. You gotta even the playing field now,” Henrik says. 

“That's true,” Noah chimes in, “You can't just say you're sorry, you have to _show her_ you're sorry.” 

Bobby groans. “And how the hell am I supposed to do that?” 

Noah grins. “I have an idea.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK U FOR READING !!!
> 
> i hope everyone had a good and safe weekend <3
> 
> also idt i mentioned it here but i'm going to be updating on sundays now because that just works better for me lol ok bye !!!


	9. i hate it when you lie

“Hey!” 

Priya raises an eyebrow at Noah. “Hi?” She turns back to her locker, gathering her things. 

“I'm Noah,” he says, extending his hand. 

She takes her time looking him up and down, to which Noah purses his lips. “I know,” she says, and she pointedly doesn't shake his hand. 

“Right,” Noah scratches the back of his neck. “Um, so, I kind of need your help.” 

She laughs humorlessly. “And why should I help you?” 

“Because your best friend may be missing out on an opportunity for love.” 

Priya narrows her eyes. “And why do _you_ care? You don’t know her.” She slams her locker shut. 

“Well,” Noah quickly nods at a guy who greets him in passing, “I'm a big believer in love.” 

Priya scoffs and starts to walk away, but Noah grabs her wrist. She glares at him. 

Noah clears his throat. “I’m sorry,” he mutters, loosening his grip. “It's just that we really need you. You're the best person for the job because _you_ know Cassandra so well. I don’t. Obviously.” 

Priya crosses her arms, but lets him continue. 

“My friend really likes her, but—” 

“Wait, is this the same friend who rejected her?” Priya raises an eyebrow. 

“Um, technically, yes, but—” 

“‘But’ nothing. You're on your own,” she spins on her heel. 

“Yes, but you're her best friend. If anyone could get through to her, it's you.” 

She starts walking. 

“Don't you want her to find love?” 

She stops in her tracks. 

Yes. But is some guy from her English class it for her? 

Priya ponders while Noah’s fingers beat incessantly against his thigh. 

Maybe. Cassandra has been unusually bothered by it; that's gotta be something, right? 

“Okay,” she finally says, “I’m listening.” 

\--- 

“Miss Hope,” Bobby says as he walks into the vice principal’s office, “I need your help.” 

“Oh, hi, Bobby,” Hope looks up at him from behind her glasses, “It’s nice to see you without having to reprimand you.” 

“I need you to come with me.” 

“Excuse me?” Hope raises an eyebrow. “For what? If this is for one of your stupid pranks, I simply do not have the time.” She looks back down at the papers piled in front of her. 

“Please, Miss Hope,” Bobby begs, “It’s just that—” 

“Yes?” 

“Well, there's a bird stuck in the janitor’s closet. I’ve been feeding him salt and vinegar crisps—his name’s Gareth, by the way—but I don’t wanna just leave him there, you know? He should be able to fly. No pun intended.” 

Hope sighs, taking her reading glasses off. “Fine,” she gets up, “Lead the way.” 

Bobby turns around, walking down the long hallway. Hope’s heels clack on the floor as she speeds up to walk in step with him. 

“You know, Bobby,” she says, “I’m really proud of you for taking the initiative here. It's nice to see you care for someone—well, some _thing_ —other than yourself. Maybe all those weeks of detention really have taught you something.” 

Bobby chuckles. “Maybe.” 

Soon, they arrive at the janitor’s closet. Henrik is lingering by some of the nearby lockers. They nod to each other as subtly as they can. 

Bobby opens the door, sweeping his arm to the side to let Hope in first. 

Hope steps in, looking around the closet. “Where’s the bird? Is he hiding?” 

“Sorry, Miss Hope.” 

She spins on her heels. “What?” 

Bobby slams the door shut, locking the closet with the janitor’s keys he’d borrowed (stolen). Henrik runs over with the chair, and Bobby shoves it under the doorknob for good measure. 

“Bobby McKenzie!” Hope bangs on the door from the inside. “Let me out this instant!” 

“I can’t,” he says, stepping away from the closet. “I’ve got an _actual_ bird to catch now.” 

Henrik offers Bobby a high five, and then they hurry back to Hope’s office. 

\--- 

In Hope’s office, Noah’s working with Carl and Kassam, a couple of A/V Club members, to rewire the PA system. 

“Hey, Noah,” Bobby says, closing the door behind him. 

“The eggs are in the basket,” Henrik says, grinning. 

Everyone looks up at him. 

“What?” Noah says. 

“The eggs are in the basket,” Henrik repeats, waving his hands, “You know, like the code names we said we were using.” 

“Mate,” Bobby says, placing a comforting hand on Henrik’s shoulder, “We were joking about that.” 

“Oh,” Henrik slumps. 

“He means that Hope’s locked in the janitor’s closet, like we planned,” Bobby says, flopping into one of the armchairs, “How’s the tech stuff going?” 

“Good,” Noah says, “We’ve already shut off the PA system throughout the school, except for the field. We’re finishing up the wireless mics.” Carl and Kassam nod in agreement. 

“Cool,” Bobby finds a crumpled up piece of paper on the floor, scoops it up, and tosses it to Henrik. “Catch!” 

Henrik catches it and tosses it back. 

It quickly becomes a game, and they don’t need to look at Noah to know that he’s glaring at them. 

The office falls silent, save for the rustling of paper and the occasional murmuring between Noah and the A/V Club members. 

A little while later, it’s finally done. 

“Alright,” Noah says, getting up and handing Bobby the newly wired mic, “Let’s go.” 

\--- 

“Good work today, team,” Coach Miles says, high-fiving the girls as they pass by him. 

Wiping off excess sweat with the back of her hand, Cassandra walks to her duffel at its usual spot on the bleachers. She fans herself with her hands, though it's no help. Another bead of sweat dribbles down her forehead. 

She grabs her bag and makes her way towards the locker room, but Priya suddenly appears in front of her and stops her. 

“Priya?” Cassandra’s brows knit together as she covers her eyes to block out the sun. “What are you doing out here? I thought we were hanging out later.” 

“I have something important to tell you,” Priya says, distractedly looking around. 

“Can't this wait?” Cassandra wipes away another bead of sweat that rolls down the side of her face. “I’m in desperate need of a shower.” 

“No,” Priya looks around again, “It can't.” 

Cassandra follows Priya’s gaze to the top of the bleachers, but it's empty. “What are you looking for?” 

“Um,” Priya peels her eyes away, “It's nothing.” 

Cassandra raises an eyebrow. “Okay?” 

She starts walking towards the locker room again when ear splitting microphone feedback cuts through the hot air. 

“What the hell?” she says, looking around the field. 

Priya giggles softly beside her. 

_You're just too good to be true_

_Can't take my eyes off of you_

Maybe it's someone asking some unlucky person to prom, Cassandra thinks. She scoffs and continues walking towards the locker room. 

“Cassie!” Priya grabs her arm. “Wait, you can't go yet!” 

“What? Why? This isn't any of my business. I just wanna shower,” she rolls her eyes as she starts walking again. 

_You'd be like Heaven to touch_

_I wanna hold you so much_

Rocco appears at the top of the bleachers, smugly strumming at his electric guitar. 

Huh? 

“Please just wait,” Priya pleads. 

Cassandra sighs, dropping her duffel bag on the ground. “Fine.” 

_At long last, love has arrived_

_And I thank God I'm alive_

Gary appears next, donning a wooden drum around his neck as he keeps the rhythm steady. 

Ugh, she just wants to go. What even is this? 

_You're just too good to be true_

_Can't take my eyes off of you_

“They need to stop,” Cassandra mutters, “I'm getting secondhand embarrassment.” 

_Pardon the way that I stare_

_There's nothin' else to compare_

Gary and Rocco make their way down the bleachers, never missing a beat. 

Where is the singer, anyway? 

Not that she cares. 

_The sight of you leaves me weak_

_There are no words left to speak_

Curiosity wins over and she looks around, scouring the field for the singer. 

Who the hell is it? 

The voice sounds oddly familiar, she thinks. 

_But if you feel like I feel_

_Please let me know that it's real_

Finally, the singer casually makes his appearance at the top of the bleachers, and Cassandra’s jaw drops faster than she could stop it. 

“You've gotta be kidding me,” she says when she recognizes him. 

Priya bursts into a fit of giggles beside her. 

_You're just too good to be true_

_Can't take my eyes off of you_

Cassandra turns to Priya. “You knew?” 

Priya nods enthusiastically. 

“What the hell?!” 

Bobby quickly makes his way down the stairs. 

_I love you, baby_

_And if it's quite alright_

More than halfway to the bottom of the bleachers, Bobby starts to dance erratically as he sings. 

“This is ridiculous,” Cassandra says, crossing her arms, though a small smile plays across her lips. 

_I need you, baby_

_To warm the lonely night_

He seems to notice her demeanor change, and his moves get just a little bit more frenzied. He takes huge gulps of breath whenever he can. 

_I love you, baby_

_Trust in me when I say_

He's at the bottom of the bleachers now, reaching behind his back as he walks over to her. 

She raises an eyebrow at him, wondering what in the world he's doing. 

_Oh, pretty baby_

_Don't bring me down, I pray_

Now he's a few feet away from her, and she quickly realizes that he was reaching behind him to grab a flower. A white gardenia. 

With a flourish, he gets on one knee and offers her the flower. 

She tightens her crossed arms. 

_Oh, pretty baby_

_Now that I've found you, stay_

Cassandra eyes him suspiciously, though she can't keep ignoring her feelings. The hot sun may have scorched her during practice, but Bobby’s gesture warms her from the inside. 

She cracks a smile despite herself, and eventually takes the flower. 

_And let me love you, baby_

_Let me love you_

Grinning, Bobby gets up, and waves across the field with his free hand. 

Soon enough, a sea of deep blue fills the field as the school band, fully clad in their uniforms, supports Gary and Rocco with the instrumentals. 

“Oh my god,” Cassandra laughs, a mixture of disbelief and amusement. 

Looking into her eyes, Bobby brings the mic back up to his lips and starts to sing the second verse when— 

“Bobby McKenzie.” 

Bobby freezes. 

Cassandra looks over Bobby's shoulder to find Hope. A very livid Hope. She gives him a questioning look, but he shakes his head. 

“Uh oh.” 

\--- 

Suffice to say, Miss Hope sent Bobby to detention. Immediately. 

He's also been given detention for every Friday and Saturday until the end of the year. His dad and the rest of Paisley Cuddle would not be happy to hear about this. He's not even sure if he's got the girl. 

Now he's sitting in the back of the classroom, drumming on the desk impatiently as he watches the clock tick by. Just 57 minutes left to go. 

Ugh, this will take forever, he thinks as he slumps in his seat. 

All of a sudden, a shrill, blood curdling shriek pierces through the silence and shakes up the classroom. The kids murmur quietly. 

“Quiet,” Coach Miles says, walking towards the door. “I'll go see what's going on. None of you move.” He scrutinizes the class before leaving, and the door closes with a creak. 

Another creak sounds, followed by hurried footsteps. 

“Bobby,” Cassandra shakes his shoulder, “Get up. You gotta go,” she says, glancing back at the door. 

“Cassandra? Wait. What?” Bobby blinks at her, glancing down at a textbook in her hand. 

She raises an eyebrow. “Do you wanna stay in detention, then?” 

“Nope,” he says, scurrying towards the window with Cassandra trailing behind. “Wait, but—” 

“We don't have time, Bobby. Miles could come back at any second,” she says, motioning towards the door. “You have to go. Now.” 

Bobby nods, prying open the window before climbing out. 

\--- 

Cassandra heads straight for the door, but Miles beats her to it. 

“Cassandra?” Miles looks down at her. “What are you doing here?” 

“I forgot my textbook,” she holds the book up for proof. 

“Oh, okay,” he nods, “See you at practice tomorrow.” 

“See you!” she heads towards the door. 

“Wait.” 

She freezes. 

“Something’s different here,” he says. 

“Um…” 

“You're trying harder in school and on the field,” he says, smiling. “Good job.” 

“Oh, uh, thanks, Coach,” she smiles, then rushes out the door before he can say anything else. 

\--- 

“Cassie!” Chelsea says, in the hallway just outside of the classroom, “Did you get him out?” 

It was Priya's idea to cause a distraction. Miles is notoriously nosy, so she knew he'd come outside to see what was going on. When he saw Chelsea shrieking with Priya over some shoes that went on sale, one can imagine the disappointment on his face. 

“Yeah,” she grins, he climbed out the window. 

“Good!” Chelsea squeals. 

“Nice,” Priya smirks, “Now go get your man.” 

“He's not my—ugh, whatever,” she rushes down the hall. 

\--- 

Cassandra hurries to the other side of the window. She wasn't really sure what to expect when she got there, but it certainly wasn't supposed to be empty. 

“Are you serious?” she scoffs, “I sneak him out, and he ditches me.” She turns to leave, but— 

“Up here!” 

Cassandra cranes her neck up at the tree that lands right by the window of the detention classroom, and Bobby's sitting on one of the branches. 

She places a hand on her hip, “You can come down now.” 

“Um,” Bobby purses his lips, “I don't know if I can.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I may be a little afraid of heights.” 

“You've gotta be kidding me.” 

He shakes his head. “Nope.” 

“Ugh,” Cassandra drops her hands by her sides, “Do you need me to come up there and help you?” 

“Yeah, I think so.” 

Cassandra sighs, walking over to the base of the tree. “You owe me,” she says, then starts climbing. “You could've just snuck out through the door if you didn't wanna go out the second floor window,” she grumbles. 

“You said to use the window.” 

“ _Now_ you listen to me?” 

She expertly places her feet at every stable branch and trunk joint, grumbling all the way to the top. 

When she gets to second floor level, Bobby isn't there anymore. She groans, “What the hell?” 

Did she underestimate? 

She looks up. 

No, he's not there. 

She looks down. 

Bobby's grinning at her from the base of the tree trunk. 

Oh my god. 

He tricked her! 

“You asshole!” she calls before climbing down. 

All she hears is the sound of him snickering. 

\--- 

It took some convincing, but her competitive side won over. 

He challenged her! What was she supposed to do? Say no? 

Of course not. 

Now, she's hiding behind one of the fake buildings, peering around the corner. 

Not a soul in sight. 

She adjusts her safety goggles, which are heavily splotched with paint, and reloads her paintball gun. It may be clear, but she doesn't know when she may get ambushed. If she's learned anything from the last couple of rounds, it's that Bobby plays dirty. 

She takes another glance around the building. Still clear. It's a little weird—he's usually not quiet for this long, but she's glad to have a little bit of a break. 

“Looking for someone?” 

She spins around and manages to catch a glimpse of a paint-covered Bobby before he assails her torso with paintballs. 

She shrieks so loudly, it seems to shake the whole arena. (It's one of the few times one could tell she's related to Chelsea.) 

“That's sounfair!” she yells as she fires paintballs at him. 

“All’s fair in love and war, baby,” she could almost see him wink under all that paint. “And this...” he grabs another paintball, “...is war.” 

She shrieks again and giggles and runs off to find cover somewhere else. 

“Hey! Wait up!” Bobby calls before running after her. 

\--- 

They play a few more rounds afterwards, but now they're getting tired. They're not running as quickly and they're not aiming as well. 

“I'm getting tired,” Bobby says when he catches up to her. He drops the paintball gun and rests his hands on his knees. “Truce?” 

Cassandra eyes him suspiciously. “Okay, truce,” she drops her paintball gun too and sits down on a bale of hay. 

Bobby sits down next to her. “That was fun. I've never seen you laugh that much.” 

She laughs softly, turning her head to face him, “It was nice to let it all go.” 

“It suits you,” he says. 

Heat rushes to her cheeks as she looks down, avoiding his gaze. 

“Hold on,” he says, bringing his hand up to her cheek, “You've got paint all over your lips. May I?” 

She forces herself to meet his eyes and she nods slowly, letting his thumb softly brush over her top lip. He moves to her bottom lip and adds more pressure. 

“If this is another one of your weird moves—” 

“That depends,” he whispers, his amber eyes peering into her dark ones, “Is it working?” He dares to inch closer to her as he glances back down at her lips. 

“No,” she whispers back. 

He pauses just a breath away from her mouth, as if to silently ask for permission, and she closes the gap between them. 

He moves his lips against hers with more fire than she expects, maybe even more. 

Suddenly, she's very glad she stole Chelsea's lip balm. 

\--- 

“Thanks for the ride home,” she says, shutting his car door. 

“No problem,” he says. “Thanks for sneaking me out of detention,” he grins, walking alongside her as they head towards her front door. 

She snorts. “It was the least I could do after the whole… thing you did.” 

He chuckles. “I had to get your attention somehow, Cassandra.” 

“You know,” she says, “You could call me Cassie.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I thought it was reserved.” 

“It is,” she smiles. 

She doesn't see it, but he smiles back. 

They stop in front of the door. 

“I really did have a lot of fun today,” Bobby says, facing her. “Can we do it again?” 

She nods. 

He steps closer, hovering his hand on her waist. “Is this okay?” 

She smiles and nods again, and he grabs her waist and presses his mouth against hers in the most tender kiss she's gotten in her life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not me thinking i would be consistent with updates :\  
> anyways thank u for reading i hope u like it !! <3  
> thank u esme for the idea of using priya to get bobby out of detention lmao ily !!


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